papa-nikki-writes

[papa-nikki-writes]

Rowvember day 19-Habitat

Definition

1.a person's usual or preferred surroundings.

2.the natural home or environment of an animal, plant, or other organism.

Summary-It’s Boss’ birthday so she and Johnny kick back, pop open some beers and muse about how far they’ve come.

Words-939

-I hurt myself today, to see if I still fee-

Next

Come break me doooow-

Next

-see the light at the end of the tunnel, it’s just a freight train coming-

Ugh, is this depresso hour or something? Shea asked herself, finally turning off the radio, she leaned the side of her face onto her other arm, feeling like her stomach had fallen out her arse because she certainly didn’t feel it around right now. The butterflies of worry were still fluttering away though, in the giant hole she felt in her insides. Normally she’d be good with any sound, but tonight? Tonight was too much.

           She had tossed and turned, tangled in her blankets, sweating. Why was this heat still here in October? Made no sense whatsoever, plus did nothing to console her mood. It was almost a year since she woke up from her coma, give or take three days, and it was strange how much had changed in a year.

          She winced and reached down to her legs, massaging the grafted skin to try and ease the pain. They felt too tight in the heat, as always and she pulled her right knee up to her chest to try and loosen the skin up, then her left, yawning wide when there was a short sharp knock on her bedroom door.

“I didn’t wake you up did I man?” she asked, turning as the door opened, and Johnny shuffled in with a pack of beers and a shake of his head.

“You never do.” he said, half sitting, half flopping onto her bed, ripping a beer from the pack and opening it before he handed it to her, she took it, eyebrow raised.

“Are we...celebrating something?” she asked, and Johnny looked at her as if she’d gone mad.

“Happy 27th you dick.” he answered, and Shea blinked and checked her phone, it was indeed the 23rd October, she had been so focused on what the 26th meant that her birthday had flown out of her head.

“Fuck I’m getting old.” she said, and Johnny chuckled.

“Me before you O’Connor.” he pointed out, and Shea smirked.

“Guess so, with your thirty year old arse.” she said, and she was adding a year on, Johnny would be twenty nine next April, and he gave her a soft dig to her upper arm.

“Asshole.”

“You love me though.”

“Don’t flatter yourself Boss.” he grinned, taking a swig of his beer, and Shea laughed, taking the rest of the six pack and heading to her room’s balcony, groaning audibly at the feel of marginally cooler air on her body, just what she needed.

        Johnny came to lean on the balcony next to her, drinking his beer in silence, but there was a light smile ghosting his lips, and she smiled too and followed his gaze outwards, to The Row. As much as it was different now, it almost looked pretty, with its lights and the cars driving by below. It wasn’t the same, but she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but The Row.

“I think they’re almost done fixin’ up the church.” Johnny pointed out, and in the distance, Shea saw that the cars parked around it were fewer than there had been.

“I wonder If they got the smell of gasoline out of the carpets.”

“It probably went up like kindling.” Johnny said, “think Ultor went for the Polyester blend.” he said, and she saw it, his face falling a little when he remembered where he got that sort of knowledge from. Aisha was still very much on his mind even when he was beginning to put the pieces back together. She would always be on his mind.

“I think I might wait for the fanfare when they complete it, then go piss on Vogel’s parade.”

“I’m in. He can’t get away with usin’ us to do his dirty work.”

“And he won’t.” Shea shrugged, taking a drink from her bottle, “He probably doesn’t even realise we figured him out.” she added, and Johnny laughed.

“Can’t wait to see his face when he realises we ain’t stupid.”

“Killing him outside the church seems like a great message to end our campaign on.” she said, and Johnny smiled.

“I knew you’d get us here.”

“What? You must’ve doubted at least once.”

“Nah.” he said, shaking his head, and she felt her cold black heart thaw, “Oh,” he said, as though just thinking of something, “word to the wise, Pierce and Shaundi are plannin’ a surprise party for later, so I thought I’d tell ya ‘cause I know you like turnin’ up lookin’ your best.” he said and she smiled, he knew her so well.

“I do indeed, gives me a chance to get that killer dress I’ve been pining after.”

“As good an excuse as any.” he said, opening their second beers and Shea sank down, arms over the edge of the balcony, closing her eyes as a light breeze blew across her face.

         There was a strange serenity not usually found in The Row tonight, it was soothing, and she couldn’t think of a better way to kick off her birthday than right here, now, with her best friend. No pressure, no bullets pinging over their heads, no fighting for their lives.

        This was it. Home. It was foreign to her tongue even now, having been a person always on the move. The end of the violence was in sight, and Shea couldn’t wait to see what was in store for them when they weren’t in a warzone. Maybe they’d flourish, maybe they’d fail, but the uncertainty was exhilarating.

#Saints Row #rowvember2020 #rowvember 2020 #boss shea #Johnny Gat

[papa-nikki-writes]

Rowvember day 17-Aware

Definition

1.having knowledge or perception of a situation or fact.

2.concerned and well informed about a particular situation or development.

Summary After Shea wakes up from her coma, she heads to the Streetfighting circle. Carlos told her to soak up as much info as possible? So that’s what she’s gonna do. She��s wake, aware, alive and pissed the fuck off.

Words 2,924

No matter how many years have passed, she knew that The Circle would remain the same, she needed that right now, seeing the corporate shell The Row had become had rocked her to the core and she was scared to see what had happened to the area first hand, to see what they might have done to the church.

         Some of the best days of her life lay with The Row, some of the most life changing events she had gone through were all tied to there, and maybe it was cowardice and fear that was keeping her away but she didn’t know if she was strong enough to handle the change when it felt like she had only been to her Row yesterday. Seeing the shell The Row had become only seemed to back up what Carlos had been saying: The Saints were gone. The buildings she knew were gone. But going there and seeing it would mean that everything she’d fought for, losing Lin, that had all amounted to nothing.

She only wanted to pretend for a little while longer.

          As she got to the back alley where the entrance lay, she noticed two men, one smoking a cigarette, the other eyeing her carefully as she approached, and she smiled, hoping they wouldn’t mind the bright orange jumpsuit too much, she couldn’t wait to see Alan, or even Luke, she just needed a friendly face right now. Instead of passing by, however, Shea was grabbed and slammed against the nearest wall, another indication that maybe things had changed even more than she thought.

“Ow! Hey what the fuck? I’m a regular!” she snarled, her cheek scraping against the brickwork as she struggled.

“Oh really, never seen you before in my life.” one said, as the other patted her down and found her two pistols.

“I don’t get it Mac, guns say pig, jumpsuit says convict, tatts say gang-banger.”

“What?”

“Yeah, and you won’t believe what else.” said not Mac, and she felt her hair being swept from her neck, probably to stare at the fleur-de-lis tatted there.

“Wow. Haven’t seen one of those in a while. How about you tell us who you are, little lady?” he asked, lifting her higher off the floor when he noticed her planting her feet ready to fight back, she changed tack, instead she threw an elbow out, catching the guard in the face so he dropped her. “Whoah, we ain’t going to hurt ya, just need to know who comes and goes now.”

“Touch me again and I’ll twist your fucking balls off!” she warned, her chest heaving, and she doubled over, lamenting how weak her body had gotten now, she used to be able to push herself for way longer than this, this was not good at all. What, she only had one good jailbreak in her now? What the fuck was this bullshit?

“Why don’t you ask Alan Carlisle?” she snapped, and she heard them fall silent, tension in the air before there was a beep.

“Er Boss? We kinda need you up here to deal with this one.” Not Mac said, “We got a fighter.”

“Oh you have no idea.” Shea replied, pacing back and forth on the spot. There was a few moments as they stood, staring at each other before they heard footsteps come up the stairs, and Shea turned to see who it was. Her shock was mirrored in his face as he laid eyes on her too.

“Shea?!” He asked, and a whole wave of emotions surged through her, relief, joy, fear and guilt, and she ran, throwing her arms around Luke’s neck, felt him freeze before lifting his arms to hug her back loosely, so Shea coughed and stepped back, feeling the awkwardness.

“Not gonna lie, I thought you’d be a little bit happier to see me than this.” she said, her heart sinking, in her world they’d fucked for the last time two weeks ago, but with five years in between, he’d have to have realised that it was for the best right?

         He stared at her, and he was just as handsome as when she’d left him, maybe even more so now, he’d had more tattoos done, and he had cut his long hair shorter, shaved at the sides, where his dark hair was starting to grey already and Shea liked, Shea liked way too much. He tore his eyes away to regard Mac and not Mac, giving a nod.

“I’m taking her upstairs, tell Jase to mind the bar.”

“Sure thing.” they answered, and Luke nodded again, before clapping a hand to his neck and grimacing as he cricked it out. He still did that apparently, one time he had cricked it without supporting it with his hand and had hurt himself for weeks after.

“Come on, and keep it down, my kids are asleep.”

“Kids?!” Shea blurted out before she could stop herself, and he turned and glared, “sorry.” she apologised, then followed him into the old shop above The Circle stairs.

       Well it wasn’t the old shop anymore, it was quite a spacious little house, with clean white furniture and greenery and by God, Shea didn’t belong here at all. She perched carefully on a sofa, and Luke disappeared for a few minutes before coming back with some clothes and throwing them at her.

“What are these?” she asked, and Luke crossed the room to his drinks cabinet, by the looks of things, seeing as though he poured a hefty whiskey and downed it in one, cringing.

“Clothes.” he said.

“Funny, you” Shea replied, rolling her eyes, “any excuse to get me naked, is that it?” she teased.

“Er no. Unless you want to forever wander in a bright orange jumpsuit?” he asked, then pointed at the third door on the right, “bathrooms there.”

“We could skip the bathroom and head to the bedroom?” she asked, still keeping the flirty tone, and Luke, now throwing down a second drink down his throat, choked. He wheezed and spluttered, and Shea moved to thump him on the back but he moved back and held his hands up, he turned the left one round when he’d calmed down, and there Shea saw it, the ring on his wedding finger. He was married.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry-is she-?”

“In that room there-yeah.” he nodded, pointing at the door he’d emerged from with the clothes and Shea hid her face with them, cringing hard.

“Fuck!” she whispered, though the swear lost none of the intensity.

“It’s alright….it’s not really your fault is it? If you could have come back before now...you would’ve come back?” he asked expectantly, and Shea lowered the clothes.

“Been in a coma until about...maybe three hours ago?” she said, and Luke sighed, looked at her and shook his head, close to tears.

“I can’t believe it.”

“What, that I wasn’t dead or I’ve just come out of a coma?” she asked, and she saw his eyes well up by the moonlight streaming in through the window.

“I lost you.”

“Wasn’t my intention.” she said, as if that helped.

“Well no, I don’t think you intended to get blown up on a yacht with Alderman Hughes, but it happened,” he replied, heat lacing his tone before he placed his face in his hands, “I’m not mad at you, by the way, it’s just that it’s been...difficult. I honestly don't know what I'd have done without Rach...sh-, she’s an angel.”

         He wasn’t looking at her when he said it, dragged his hands over his face and looked at anything but her, as if he was ashamed to even admit how he’d struggled, probably never thought he’d be able to tell her just how much everything had affected him. Fact was, back then, they’d never have talked like this anyway.

“Where’s Alan? Surely he’s been about?” she asked, and he froze again, and his eyes darted to her, and her heart jolted, she knew that look well, “no.” she denied it, shaking her head, saw Luke’s face grimace again and he promptly turned and marched back to his liquor cabinet as Shea struggled to process yet another hit to her emotions.

        She watched him for a few moments, before she couldn’t stand it anymore and hurried into his bathroom to get changed, flicking the light on and rushed to the sink, breathing fast and heavy, she fought herself for control, her fingertips white on the edge of the sink. She looked up, and caught her reflection in the mirror for the first time. And it was strange.

         She looked like herself, but she didn’t at the same time- she did look older- not hugely, but enough to make her stop and pause and stare. Her hair was too long, and uncared for,  the black waves a little bit feral looking, and her eyes were a little sunken in, making the amber truly stand out against the dark circles. Who thought that sleeping for five years meant you’d still look tired at the end of it? She tiptoed closer to the mirror, running her fingers over her face to reacquaint herself with it.

        She turned her head, her fingers continuing to trail downwards, over the fleur-de-lis on her neck before moving past her collarbone, pulling the jumpsuit zip down, seeing the raised bullet scar in between her tits. It was completely healed now, no longer red and angry. She touched her fingers to the scar too, she didn’t remember a time where it didn’t hurt to touch it, but here it was now, raised and bumpy and a shiny white, but physically not painful any longer..

          Sighing, she stepped away from the mirror and shifted out of the jumpsuit, and what she saw took her breath from her then too. Her legs were covered in gnarled, twisted skin, darker in some places and lighter in others. She raised her shaking hands and ran them over her thighs, and felt where smooth skin met burned, She sobbed before she could stop herself, but she had barely enough breath to sustain it so it came out as little more than a yelp before it died, and she covered her mouth, remembering that she was supposed to be quiet right now. Luke didn’t want her waking his wife and kids up too, and with good reason, she’d hide herself away too, what, with their history and who Shea was. She should be feeling lucky to be alive, but she didn’t know how any of this could be a blessing.

       There wasn’t any part of this that she didn’t hate, and tears fell and splashed on her thighs, and Shea, angered again by the state of herself slapped her hands on her legs, digging her nails into the flesh, or trying to- the skin graphs meant the skin there was tougher, so all that happened were the white indents her nails left. That pissed her off too so she balled her hands into fists and beat on her legs instead.

Bam

Hey you woke up, everything you know and love is gone, hope you’re over lin’s death!

Bam

Hey, you know like Lin’s dead? Alan’s dead now, and so might Johnny, who fucking knows?

Bam

Hey, why do you care your fuck buddy moved on, you ended it you stupid fucking cow.

Bam

Why did you even bother waking up? You knew you were on borrowed time since you left Lin like that.

Bam

And you know you fucking deserve all this too.

And Shea just wrapped her arms around herself and cried.

          There was a tiny knock on the door and she hissed back at Luke in reply, she was pretty sure it wasn’t any coherent language, but she figured that it’d convey what she needed it to do, and dragged the clothes on with intent. It wasn’t actually a bad fit, the clothes were worn, and old, Shea assumed they were probably Luke’s wife’s old clothes. A simple white vest top and some jeans suited her fine just now. Sighing and swiping the tears from her face, she turned to leave the room, ignoring the heavy feeling in her heart, or trying to. Luke waited outside.

“Are you OK? Were you crying?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“You were crying though.”

“No, my old bullet wounds hurt, that’s all.” she lied, and the lie did nothing to ease the concern in his eyes, or the sheer disbelief. “What do you care anyway?” she asked casually, turning away from him to inspect the house, stopping to look at the picture of Luke and his family. Rachel was stunning, fiery red hair and dark eyes, looking into the camera with a baby boy sleeping in her arms. The little girl, she was no older than three, and looked just like her dad. Shea smiled at them, her heart melting.

“What do you mean, do I care, of course I do. We were messes back then I’ll throw my hands up and admit, but you didn’t deserve to get blown up, or put in a coma, but we told you didn’t we? We told you this gang shit would kill you.”

“I’m not dead yet.” Shea replied, she felt like shit, so she had to be alive somehow, she stopped at another picture, this time one of her, Alan and Luke, Alan in the middle with his great big smile and twinkling green eyes, the old scar running down his face from a knife fight with the Carnales’ own Victor Rodriguez. Guy was a tough bastard, but he was getting on in years, and Shea wondered if he’d gotten into one fight too many. She touched her fingers to the photograph wistfully, and Luke moved to the side of her, to see what she was looking at, and she swallowed the lump in her throat, “How’d it happen?” she asked, and Luke tilted his head to one side and sighed heavily.

“The Sons of Samedi. They came to The Circle one day, demanding protection money, Alan refused and they hacked him to death with machetes.”

“What.” she asked, shocked. “Gangs don’t interfere with The Circle.”

“You did.” Luke pointed out. “I think that’s what attracted the Samedi in the first place.”

“How can you pin this on me?!” she spat, and Luke shrugged.

“You built up a reputation, trouble was, you were no longer there to reinforce it, and therein lies the problem of everything. Whether you like it or not you shifted the balance so much it took three more fucking gangs to move in to even cause the amount of destruction you did on your own.”

“That’s not fair.” Shea growled, and Luke shook his head,

“Point is, this is where we are now. We warned you, and you didn’t listen, Alan died because they knew about his connection to you, and you weren’t here to fucking save him.”

“I was in a coma!” Shea hissed, it was difficult keeping the argument on the down low, and anger burned through the blood in her veins, and Luke nodded as though that were obvious.

“Exactly! This is the thing with this gang shit, it seeps into everything else around you, everybody else suffered just because you went on this self righteous crusade with Julius Little. Do you think Alan wanted to see you beat up as much as he did? Do you think his heart didn’t break when you told him what happened with the Rollerz? Not even nearly fucking dying could get through to you.”

“We had to take the city!”

“Well congratulations, was it worth it?”

         Shea stared at him, only becoming aware of her tears when they were rolling down her cheeks, and he closed his mouth and looked away, tears rolling down his too.

“If that’s how you really feel, then why the fuck are you helping me out?” she asked, and he looked back at her, swiping at his eyes.

“Believe me, everything was telling me not to. Those little humans in there depend on me to keep them safe Shea, I’m daddy. And I can’t put them anywhere near danger, and you are danger Shea, you have a target on your back. When the news breaks that you’re alive every gang fuckers gonna be pointing their guns at you and everyone around you.”

“Then why fucking help me then?”

“Because I don’t know if you’ve realised Shea, but you have nothing. Nobody’s waiting for you in that church-”

“Then if that’s your attitude then I’m going to make this real easy for you Luke.” she cut across him, she’d heard enough, she knew alright? She fucking knew and didn’t need anybody to tell her that. She shrugged dramatically and turned on her heel to leave, wrenching open the door.

“Shea-” Luke called after her, and Shea stopped and backed up a bit,

“Just be there for your kids Luke, you’re right, they need you.” she said before she closed the door and headed back into the night, feeling like she really needed a fucking drink right now. A drink and a cigarette.

    Dawn was rapidly approaching, painting hues of reds, purples and blues as birds chirped overhead. There was only one place that she knew nearby that would still be open. And so she headed straight for TeeNay, it was a strip club yes, but at least it was somewhere warm she could sit for a while as she tried to figure out what to do next.

#Saints Row #rowvember2020 #rowvember 2020 #boss shea

[papa-nikki-writes]

Rowvember day 16- Hurt

Definition

1. cause pain or injury to

2. Be detrimental to

3.physically injured

Summary- My mind’s rendition of what happened after Playa and Lin were shoved in the trunk of Lin’s car. Of course I write with my girl in mind, and I reckon this is when ‘The Boss’ was really born in SR1, how everything went down with Lin changed a lot in the Saints, changed Playa.

Words- 2,403

Shea was only half conscious when her memory kicked back in, she became dimly aware that she was somewhere dark, but they had just stopped after travelling what must have been a good distance, she could make out the sound of ship foghorns in the distance. The docks. When did they get to the docks?

      And why did she feel so feverish and weak? She remembered a bat to the face.  a needle sliding into her arm, a blurry blue lined limo, but her brain hurt when she tried to remember anything more. Everything hurt.

Crying, someone was crying. It stopped abruptly when light shone in...wherever they were. Two figures looking down at them, Lin trying to reason with...Donnie was it? That squirrelly little mechanic that always hung around Price. The other- Sharp. He had a gun.

        A gunshot rang out, and Lin didn't speak anymore, Donnie yelled at Sharp before he stormed off. What the fuck was going on? So many things...it almost seemed funny. She giggled, and Sharp's attention was drawn to her, his face surprised. Another gunshot.

Pain knifed white hot through her chest and Shea embraced darkness. It wasn't the first time she'd blacked out, and she had a feeling it wouldn't be the last either.

***

“...Hey. You even fucking alive?!” Lin’s voice woke her but she just wanted to go back to sleep, everything was an effort right now and dreamland was just out of reach. A sharp painful kick made her eyes snap open, and she growled and kicked back on instinct, and Lin hissed, “Ow! You coulda just said yes!” she said as Shea tried to move her arms to push herself up, but nothing happened.

     So she was still tied up. Shea began to bend her body back on herself to get at the knife in her boot when Shea became aware that something cold and wet began to circle her. Water.

“Lin?” she asked, and heard her voice waver. “Isn’t this the trunk of your car?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.” Shea hissed through her teeth, still thrashing to get her knife

“Hey! Found my lighter!” Lin wheezed, a rattle in her chest set alarm bells ringing in Shea's head and she moved double time. She could smell, taste and feel blood in the trunk, hers or Lin's she didn't know. Maybe it was a little or a lot of both.

Just a little further, Shea frowned as her fingers skimmed the top of her knife, just a little-aha! Triumphant, Shea began hacking at her bindings.

“I'm-I'm sorry.” Lin said after a long pause, she sounded so weak and far away.

“Tell me when we get out of here, yeah?”

“I shouldn't have called, I shouldn't have dragged you...” Lin trailed off, and Shea kicked her back into consciousness.

“Stay with me honey.” Shea warned, trying to stay calm as she worked on the ties, and Lin laughed.

“Did you hear that asshole Donnie? He said I was his girl.”

Got it!

       The cable tie gave way and Shea returned the knife to her boot, trying to keep her head above water she dragged Lin over to her.

“Lin?” she asked tapping her cheek, “Lin honey?” the silence seemed to stretch on forever, and the water level rose to dangerous levels. There was only one thing for it, she had to get Lin out of there, “Lin, deep breath sweetie.” Shea said before she held her breath and pulled her head underwater. The trunk roof would be locked and could only open from outside, so Shea focused all her energy into kicking the back seat through until there was a hole big enough to push Lin through to the main car before following after her.  

She's gonna fucking kill me when she sees the state of her car. Shea thought.

           She collected the pistol that Lin kept in the glove compartment before grabbing hold of Lin's waist and shooting a bullet through the glass of the passenger side door. The bullet carved a spiderweb in the glass before it gave way and a ton of water crashed down upon their heads. She tried to move, but cramp seized her leg and she hissed, taking in a breath and swallowing way to much water. It felt like it filed her lungs. Panic set in.

        Refusing to die here, Shea kicked upwards through the water towards the surface as fast as she could: she needed to take a new breath, so did Lin. The cramp still assaulted her legs and Lin's dead weight didn't help things.

Wait, dead weight?

       That scared her more then anything else, finding strength from some unknown reserve she moved through the water quicker, but the water chopped and churned all around her and she struggled to keep her mouth shut and keep Lin's slipping hand in hers. But fate was so cruel.

      A particularly fast current ripped Lin from her and Shea screamed, bubbles of sound floating around her. Air, she needed air. She needed to find Lin. Her blood pounded in her ears and her chest burned. She flailed her arms in the abyss, hoping to catch hold of Lin again but her brain's need for oxygen made her body make for the surface.

         Her head broke the inky blackness of the waves as the current shoved her to and fro. Waves crashed over her head and rain beat down on her skin, the droplets of ice adding to the dark chill of the water.

      She breathed in deep, then dived under again, swimming in the direction where Lin had been wrenched away from her, but with the waves crashing above she had no idea if she was even swimming in a straight line, let alone in the right direction. The need to breathe clawed at her and she made for the surface once more, heading towards land.

     She sobbed and collapsed onto the beach, her already pain seized body churning out cries that only heightened the stabbing, she knew Lin had died shortly after she'd last spoke to Shea.

Only Shea didn't want to believe it.

      She didn't know how long she stayed there, she had no fucking idea what time it was in the first place, she had no phone, they had taken it off of her before and she found herself utterly at a loss. Then Shea began to shake violently, falling victim to an almighty coughing fit that ultimately sent her scrambling for the water so she could be sick. It felt like her body was trying to rip itself apart. She fell forwards into the water, closing her eyes for just a few seconds.

***

Possibly for the second time that day, Shea was wrenched back from the brink of death. Her eyes snapped open and she sat bolt upright, coughing to eject water from her lungs as she tried to pinpoint just what had resurrected her.

Car engines, laughter. Rollerz.

      Shea's eyes fell on the car headlights, something predatory awakened and the need for revenge set her nerves alight, reigniting her life. Her mind made up, she headed for the source of the noise like a ghost that couldn't be granted rest. Not until the debt was paid in blood. The lights of the cars were speeding away from her, and she set off at a run. By the time she got there, one Roller remained. She snapped his neck, a far quicker death than what they had planned for her and Lin, and the thought made her blood boil as she got in the car and gave chase.

     The cars were racing eachother, the occupants whooping and hollering, so Shea joined the race knowing that Sharp was in one of them, she would just have to kill every single one of these fuckers until she found him. She pulled up alongside the driver’s side of one, and he rolled down his window, probably to talk to who he thought was his comrade. His face turned to one of horror when he saw Shea instead.

“'Ain’t you dead?” he asked, and Shea smirked and pounced, sinking the knife deep into his heart, the Roller next to the driver screamed and tried to stem the blood flow as Shea sped out in front. Watching the car lose control and plough into a wall, Shea didn't stop to check if they were dead or not.

       The other Rollerz now knew something was wrong and slammed on their Nitrous, Shea did the same, closing the gap in mere seconds as she flicked open the glove compartment, finding the pistol there. Pistol in the glove compartment was like an unspoken rule or something.

          She flipped the safety catch, leaned out of the window and took aim, shooting the tires out of one of the cars, causing that one to crash further up the road. One car broke from the convoy and retreated, wanting no part of Shea or her vengeance.

       Shea lined up her shot and fired through the back window, catching one of those sat in the back, another bullet and she hit the driver too, killing him instantly, the car shuddered to a halt. The remaining Rollerz in the car scrambled out and ran away from Shea as fast as they could while she caught up to the last car in the convoy. Sharp's. She leaned over to the window, coughed. Spat out whatever had collected in her throat,

        Sharp tried outmanoeuvring her but it was obvious that he wasn't used to driving a car of his own. Shea stayed on his arse until she realised he was coming up to a set of crossroads. Tiring of this cat and mouse game, she veered off from the path, turned a corner, turned another, then slammed down on the accelerator until she was flying down the road.

As she thought, thinking he was safe, Sharp had slowed down.

     Shea had a last glimpse of the look of total shock on Sharp's face as she closed the gap between them at frightening speeds, he had no time to turn or accelerate.

      Shea smashed into him, pushing his car forwards until he was sandwiched between the wall and her car. Her body was jerked forwards from the impact, then thrown backwards as the airbag inflated, she struck her head and didn't even know she was knocked clean out until she came to a few moments later, sat in a haze of acrid smelling smoke.

       She blinked back blood from her eyes and looked around, saw the twisted lump of metal that was a mix of the front of her car, and Sharp's. She couldn't see him but the amount of shit she'd withstood that night she decided not to take any chances. She kept an eye on the wreck, taking pistol to hand she kicked the drivers door open and stepped out of the car. A shooting pain in her leg told her she'd damaged that in the crash too, she winced, panting and dragged her leg over to Sharp's car.

        A number of people had begun to swarm around the crash site, trying to get into the car to get to Sharp. But she wasn't going to let him be helped. No way, not when her friend was dead because of him. Not after all he'd done.  The anger came back ten fold.

“Get the fuck away from him!” she growled, and the civilians turned round.

“He needs help!”

“Away from the car!” she fired the pistol into the air, “now!” she snarled and the people scarpered, letting Shea rip the driver's door open and point her gun at a motionless and bloody Sharp. There was no way he was getting out of the car anyway, his body pinned in the clutches of the gnarled metal of the vehicle. When Shea next spoke, she'd never heard herself in that deadly cold tone before, if she was someone else, it would have given her chills. “Stop playing dickhead, at least face your death with some dignity.”

Sharp stirred, and the cold blue ice of his eyes met her molten fury.

“You should...be dead.” he said, and she allowed him to process her survival, that he’d know it was her that was going to take him out.

      She pulled the trigger. The gun went off and Sharp's head exploded into billions of pieces, spraying the car, and Shea's trigger arm with his blood. Her arm shook, and she lowered the gun.

        The adrenaline was consumed from her blood and she suddenly felt colder, weaker. Her body felt like lead, but ached painfully as though she'd lived a thousand lives, a dull ache as a growing numbness swept over her and her legs gave out from under her. She crouched on all fours coughing, wheezing as a rattle began to clatter in her chest. Her vision blurred.

        A fine bloody mist mixed with a few clots stained the tarmac below her. She winced and clutched at her chest as she tried to breathe. Saw it come away bloody.

Shit I'm bleeding.

      From what? When the fuck did that happen? Shea asked herself as she looked down at the wound oozing her lifeblood from her body, something in her memory stirred, a flash of fire, a sharp white hot pain knifing through her chest.

“Shit. I've gotta get back to the row.” she wheezed, dragging herself back into the road, someone stopped to help as they saw the carnage but Shea pulled the gun on them, making them freeze in their tracks.

“Hey, whoa whoa whoa, I just wanna help, let me help.” he said, hands up in surrender.

“You can't help him now.”

“And you?”

      Shea paused as a wave of nausea threatened its rise up her throat, and the gun fell slightly before she came back to reality.

“I don't want your help.” she hissed, circling to the car slowly.

“Sure, whatever-just, just don't hurt me yeah?” he stammered, maybe it was the blood, maybe it was the look in her eyes; or maybe it was the way her eyelids fluttered, the way she wheezed with every rise and fall of her chest. The man threw her his keys, and she turned away from him, driving off with his car without so much as another word.

#Saints Row #rowvember 2020 #rowvember2020 #lin #boss shea

[papa-nikki-writes]

Rowvember day 15-Enhance

Definition

1.intensify, increase, or further improve the quality, value, or extent of.

Summary-Dane has planes for Shivington, as he had with Saints Row, they make lives infitely better, of course, displacing poor people? Not him. Maybe they moved away somewhere. One thing stands in his way though, causing him infinite headaches, and so he calls on Troy Bradshaw and Dexter Jackson to gain the inside intel he needs on the purple wearing thugs and their leader. Knowledge is power after all and that psychopath torched the crown jewel in the Ultor empire.

Words- 1,216

“Mr Vogel, your guests are here to see you.”

“Thanks Jamie, send them in.” Dane replied, but he wasn’t truly paying attention, he had a migraine coming on, the restoration of the church in Saints Row was going to be more expensive than what was first thought, it had been completely gutted. Say what you want about the Boss, but the psychopath was thorough. The door to the office swung open, and Dane looked up from the damage reports to see Dex Jackson and Troy Bradshaw storming in, neither happy to be around the other.

“Whadd’ya want Vogel?” Troy snapped, and Dane spied the wound dressing peeking out from under his hat. He stood, and shook each hand in turn, plastering a smile onto his face.

“Gentlemen! Thanks for coming by.”

“Whadd’ya want Vogel?” Troy repeated, slower this time before he took his hand back and crossed his arms.

“Why? You got somewhere to be Bradshaw?” Dex asked, and Dane’s eyes flicked between the two of them as Troy’s head whipped round.

“How about protecting Stilwater from the Sociopaths you two have pissed off?”

“Why? What’s Shea done now?” Dex asked pointedly, and Troy stared at him.

“I wasn’t talkin’ about Shea, but since you mentioned her specifically, let’s talk. You really thought the Masako were gonna take her out?! Really?!”

“The Masako are highly trained.” Dane interrupted, more to dwell on his train of thought than defend Dex’s plan, and Troy looked round at him.

“Yeah and that bitch doesn’t know how to die.” he answered, before rounding back on Dex, “All you’ve done is piss her the fuck off, and I paid for it.” he said, pointing at his head, and Dex also crossed his arms, eyebrow raised.

“But did you die though?”

“No but Julius did. The man comes to you for protection and you sell him out?”

“He was bad for business. They both are.” Dex sighed, and Dane thought that right there, Dex had a point. Troy however, very much didn’t.

“The list of people you’re screwin’ over is getting’ longer Dex, I don’t like it.”

“I worked hard to get where I am now, I’m not letting anyone get in the way of that.”

“Well congratulations, you’re squarely on her shit list. I’ll tell you right now Dex, money don’t mean anythin’ when you’re dead.”

“Providing she doesn’t get taken out fighting the gang war.” Dex shrugged, and Troy shook his head.

“I wouldn’t count on that.”

“Why not? Johnny’s got laid out didn’t he? Nobody’s untouchable, which reminds me-” Dex paused, turning to face Dane. “-why aren’t you getting your clients on that?”

“What and make a slaughterhouse out of a hospital? That’s the last thing this city needs.”

“That’s the first thing you’ve said that I’ve ever agreed with.” Troy muttered, he sighed and began to pace.

“Besides, he’s very protected.” Dane added, he had been told that the Saints leader was there day and night, and when she was called away for whatever reason, some Saints were posted at the door. Nobody got in or out of that room without O’Connor knowing about it. And while Dane was told by the staff at the hospital that they were worried, apparently the Saints hadn’t been any trouble. “Nobody’s getting to Johnny Gat to do him harm.” he said, more to Dex than Troy, and Dex looked at the floor and laughed, shaking his head.

“Of course.”

“Now if you two are finished? How about we get to the meat of the issue?” Dane asked, striding out from behind his desk.

“Yeah, sounds good. So you started makin’ deals with the Brotherhood as well as the Ronin now?”

“Mr Maero came to me with a very lucrative partnership where-”

“You were gonna screw him over, and now the Saints have the guns. You keep edging your bets, and you keep losin’ Vogel.”

“Everything is under control.” Dane snapped, smoothing down the front of his suit, and Troy laughed, which made annoyance burn at the pit of his stomach.

“So you planned for the Oyabun, and Jyunichi’s death right?”

“The Ronin are the strongest organisation in Stilwater apart from Ultor.”

“Right, and the strongest after that are the Saints.”

“Without Johnny?” Dex scoffed.

“It wasn’t Johnny that decimated the Samedi, the Brotherhood and Ronin are through, they just don’t know it yet. Eh Vogel,” Troy said, addressing him, “you always want to be on the winning side? You’re backing the wrong horses.”

         As much as Dane didn’t want to admit it, Troy did have a point, but what was his game? If Vogel went into business with the Saints, he had no doubt he’d be able to curb them. The Saints leader was obviously loyal to a fault, as both Dex and Troy could attest, so she wasn’t a terribly smart woman. The problem was that she had sunk too much into the Ronin, and didn’t fancy burning that bridge yet, not when the money was still coming in.

“No. We are not working with Shea O’Connor.” Dex’s voice broke him from his thoughts, his eyes steely, “believe me, been there, done that.”

“But did you die though?” Troy cut in with a smirk, and Dex glared, and Dane rolled his eyes, they were getting off topic again.

“Gentleman, I’d hate to disrupt whatever this is, but I called you here for another reason. I have no plans to extend a hand to the Saints, now can we please-?” Dane asked, gesturing towards the greenscreen on the wall and tapping a button on his laptop, while the first mock ups of Shivington’s restoration flickered into view.

“Let’s hear it.” Dex said, his eyes travelling across the wall, making sense on what he was seeing.

“Now Shivington-” he began, when Troy’s mobile rang, and Dane glared at him, not that Troy was bothered, he smiled right in Dane’s face.

“Excuse me.” he said, then turned and walked to the other side of the room to look out at the view there, and Dane and Dex waited.

“What the fuck?!” he suddenly exclaimed, “Jesus H fuckin’ Christ!” he pressed the mute button on his phone before he stormed back over.

“What’s happening, what’s going on?” Dex asked, and Troy pointed at Vogel.

“You better reign in those fuckin’ Ronin! They’ve fuckin’ gone and done it! They’ve gone after Johnny Gat!”

        Dane reeled from that, and his mouth rapidly went dry as his heart started to ace in his chest, his suit becoming uncomfortably hot as he lowered his eyes to his laptop and began typing, looking for the news, any news. He didn’t sanction this! God dammit Shogo! I told you you couldn’t get to him! He thought, his hands beginning to shake.

“Yeah?” Troy asked, putting his phone back to his ear, and his face became a myriad of expression, as Dane paused and waited for the next piece of information that would no doubt shake all his plans. And Troy returned his phone to his pocket before addressing Dane again.

“Also while you’re reignin’ the Ronin in, you might wanna rethink your plans for the Saints, he thinks they’re nothin’ without Johnny? Well they just got him back-” Troy looked from Dane to Dex with a smug smile. “Gat’s awake.”

#Saints Row #rowvember 2020 #rowvember2020 #dane vogel #dex jackson #troy bradshaw

[papa-nikki-writes]

Rowvember day 14-Story

Definition

1.An account of imaginary or real people and events told for entertainment.

2.an account of past events in someone's life or in the development of something

Summary: Set in the beginning days of SR1, Shea’s (Boss/Playa) canonisation has reached the ears of the Red Light District’s streetfighting circle, and they’re not happy. Alan Carlisle recounts a brief meeting with the Carnales enforcer, Victor Rodriguez

Words 1, 794

Shea frowned and wrung out the cricks in her neck as she stomped along the pavement, the steel toe boots thudding with every step, her hands travelled to her face, feeling tenderness around her left eye, and knew there would be a bruise tomorrow. She beat down most of the Saints during her Canonisation, but that last guy? That twat Johnny Gat? She had to bring her A game against him, he fought like he hated her.

     But of course, it would turn out he did, having the audacity to criticise her reasons for signing up, so what if she wanted revenge on The Carnales for the other night? Was that so bad? It’s not like she had friends among Third Street, nor was she likely to, she didn’t need them, didn’t need any of them, not when she had The Circle. She was an arse-no-asshole he said, and he was right, she was, she told him he was right before she slammed an elbow into his face.

He still infuriated her just thinking of his fucking face.

     She continued her heavy walk as she descended the steps, ending underneath one of the many many adult shops in this part of town, opening the door to the chatter and the buzz beyond, of streetfighters and bikers alike drinking and deep in conversation, though not as deep in conversation that their eyes flicked to her as she walked in. She paused, staring them all out until they looked away and then she made her way over to the bar, where her two favourite men in her life stood waiting for her.

“Luke! Alan! You two look cosy.” she mused, smiling at their stoic expressions. It was Alan that looked the most pissed, his scarred, wrinkled face holding blue eyes that were pure steel.

“You got some nerve coming back here lass.” he said, and Shea’s heart sank.

“Alan-” she began.

“-The Circle don’t do gangs.”

“What? So you gonna chuck me out?” she asked, pulling herself into a bar stool, and Luke leaned back, the movement drew her attention, and he avoided her eye. Great. She’d get no support from him, and she sighed and returned her attention to Alan, who threw the rag in his hands down, slamming the glass on top of the bar.

“You fucking knew the rules when we took you in.”

“Yeah, and what happened to ‘family forever’, was that just lip service?”

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Luke blurted out, and Shea looked at him.

“Oh, I wondered when you were gonna chirp in.”

“Getting involved in this shit isn’t going to go well lass, trust me, I know the players in the game. You’re outmatched.”

“Then you clearly don’t fucking know me as well as you thought.” she snapped, her body burning hot, temper already too close to the surface right now.

“Sorry, not sorry but in a fight between you and the tanks like Green and Rodriguez, I’m gonna put my money on them, they’re stronger than you.” Luke said, and Shea rolled her eyes.

“I’m 5’4, you really think I rely on just strength? Come on Luke, you should know better than anyone what I can do.”

“We’re just worried.”

“Maybe you should be more concerned about the fact there’s three gangs in Stilwater that this Circle has done fuck all about-”

“-which you didn’t care about until it happened to you-”

“-Who’s gonna have my back other than me?!”

“That’s insulting.” Alan cut in and she rounded on him, eyes wide.

“You want to chuck me out!” she said, raising her voice, and Alan raised his over hers.

“Because you ain’t bringing your gang shit here!”

“I’m not! I just want a fucking drink!” she shouted over him again, and Alan snarled and pushed off from the bar.

“You think I haven’t lived through all this before?! You think these scars are for show?! You go out there and get in a knife fight with Victor Rodriguez and then come talk to me.”

“Why would I do that? That seems like a fucking stupid thing to seek out.”

      Alan put his face in his hands and dragged them over his face before he faced her again.

“I didn’t seek out the fight with Victor, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Right. Like I was the other night.” Shea cut across him, “Only I’m gonna do something about it. Julius is a good man.”

“Of course, it’s not like he’s brought a fourth fucking gang into an already combustible mix, because that makes sense.”

“What so you wanna rely on the police?”

“No.”

“Then shut the fuck up.”

“Do you want to hear my story, or are you just going to be a smartass?”

“I’m always a smartass, but fucking go ahead.”

“Fine.” Alan snapped, running a hand through his greying hair, “buckle up kid, I’m taking you back to 1981.”

“Please don’t, I don’t think I wanna go back to wearing nappies.” Shea quipped, she was barely one in 1981, and Alan looked like he sure as hell didn’t want to be reminded how old he was.

“Just listen, you little shit.”

***

Great, the Carnales and the Vice kings were fighting again. Sunnyvale just wasn’t safe these days. Alan stopped in his tracks as people ran away from the chaos towards him, barging into his shoulder in the panic to get away, and Alan ran his hand through his permed hair, black as night, and joined the current. Not wanting to be anywhere near this.

      It was then that Red Hollywoods came speeding round the corner, and Alan had barely enough time to register Alejandro Lopez in the passenger seat before he raised is gun and fired into the crowd.

       People were mowed down around him and Alan found his mind racing, the faces of those injured all around him, and fear and anger just consumed him, he saw red looking at the Carnales leader. And before he knew it, he was stalking towards him. He’d be fine, he was a fighter after all.

      He ran forwards, zig zagging so Alejandro couldn’t get a lock on him, before he launched himself at the car, grabbing Alejandro by the scruff of his neck and dragging him bodily from the car, giving him a straight right hook across the face before throwing him down onto the road.

      He briefly saw the defiance in Alejandro’s face before an arm as thick as a tree stump wrapped around his neck  and pulled him back, and he twisted before a searing pain travelled up his side, and he glanced down, saw a knife stuck in his side, followed the hand and arm holding it and recognised the tattoos. Rodriguez. Of course Alejandro wouldn’t be here without his dragon.

      He was allowed to fall onto the road, and Alejandro and Victor exchanged words before Alejandro got to his feet and pegged it away, and then Victor’s fist smashed into the side of his head, and Alan’s world span. Then another blow, and another blow, then another, and all Alan could do was grip at the handle in his side, hands slick with his own blood failing to find purchase as Victor decided to try and beat him to death.

     When the blood on his hands dried somewhat and became stickier, his fingers wrapped around the handle of the knife and pulled. He screamed, gritting his teeth to curb the shout and kicked out hard at Victor’s knee, hard enough to force the leg to bend how it was never supposed to, and Victor howled, his hands moving to hold the offending leg as he sought to bear the pain, and Alan used that opportunity to scramble to his feet, knife at the ready before he lunged, swiping the Carnales enforcer across the face with the blade.

     It was then, as Victor glared through the blood running down his face that Alan knew he should have just ran, he should’ve just counted his lucky stars he wasn’t wounded in the drive by and just got away. He had to let his anger get the best of him didn’t he? Victor pulled another knife from his vest and grinned before lunging on his bad leg.

     Even one legged he was quick for his sidz, and Alan clutched at his side and dodged as best he could, getting caught across his eye himself, and he staggered back, blinking back blood.

       Victor lunged again and Alan dodged, twisting his side painfully  before he kicked out, catching Victor under his chin, staggering him, and Alan seized his change, charging forward to stab Victor in the neck.

       And Alan wasn’t stupid, he used the opportunity to run, his life was oozing out through his fingers but sheer terror gripped him, and he ran faster, the hospital wasn’t far away, he could make it. As long as he didn’t pass out first.

***

“Now all that tells me is don’t give them a chance to retaliate.” Shea replied. “Get on them and keep on them until they’re dead and you’re not.” she shrugged, and Alan leaned on the bar and glared.

“I get it. I thought I was as invincible as you back then-”

“-Oh I don’t think I’m invincible Alan.” Shea interrupted, again, “on the contrary I’m quite aware of how mortal I am, I just know it and don’t care.” she said, which was a lie. In reality she just simply didn’t want to die, so she did what she could to not die. Being raised Catholic and being told you’re going to hell for the smallest thing made a young Shea very scared of her last day on Earth. But wasn’t that where the rush came from? To face your deepest, darkest fear, and triumph against the odds? If she was taught that anywhere, it was from Alan himself.

“You’re fucking impossible.”

“And you say that like it’s a bad thing.” Shea replied, waggling her eyebrows.”Drink please.” she added, and Alan placed his hands on his hips.

“Alright Father Hackett, chill the fuck out.” he replied, again with that steel in his eyes. As she stared back, she saw worry, fear creep into his eyes and a small part of her did feel bad, he was against the gang war and gangs, always had been from the sounds of it, and for all intents and purposes she had just cast all that away and joined up to be in the thick of it.

“I’m sorry Alan, it’s just gotta be done.” she said, and he turned back, his eyes postively shining with tears, and again Shea’s inside shifted in guilt.

“Aye lass, but it didn’t have to be you.”

#Saints Row #rowvember 2020 #rowvember2020 #boss shea

[papa-nikki-writes]

Rowvember day 13-Retired

Definition

having left one's job and ceased to work.

Summary- Sometime between the gang war’s brief ceasefire in SR2, Shea gets a text from a one Benjamin King, he’s in town and fancies a chat, so Shea sets out to grab dinner with the ex Vice King leader.

Words: 1,940

Yeah this place was definitely too fancy for her, this was the type of establishment that would serve lobster or oysters. Or Caviar. Basically any weirdish thing found from the sea.

      There were ice swans and silverware galore, and while Shea wasn’t wanting for money much these days, she still felt out of place, even dressed to the nines in First Impression’s finest pants/blazer combo, she checked on her Fleur-de-lis pin in her jacket, then stepped into the restaurant. She was drawn to the view from outside for a moment, the huge windows in the sky restaurant were really something else. It gave her a fantastic view of her city in all it’s glory.

     Nobody seemed to batting an eyelid at her presence however, smiling and bowing their heads courteously as they passed, and Shea’s cheeks burned hot and she threw her attention to the pictures on the wall, noticing what looked to be Ronnie Kray sat at a table with some Mafioso sorts and raised an eyebrow. Maybe Randall and Aubin’s Seafood restaurant were used to entertaining those constantly falling on the other side of the law.

“Er, Miss O’Connor?” Shea turned at her name to see a greeter stood in front of her with a clipboard, and they nodded their head respectfully, “Mr King told us to look out for you, please, this way.” they said, gesturing with their arm and setting off through the tables. Shea followed, a knot twisting in her stomach that tightened the closer she got to King’s table. She could see him, leaning back in his chair gazing at the outside. This wasn’t just the first time she’s seen him in years, but she had killed Julius, and he had to have known it was her and asked to meet anyway. What was he planning?

      He looked round as she sat in the seat opposite him, her hands clasped in her lap, and he smiled, the diamond earring in his ear glinted as he moved, and he raised his hands to adjust the yellow scarf around his neck, seems he was always going to rep his colours no matter what. She respected that.

“Long time, no see Playa.” he said, and nodded at the greeter, who bowed and left. “You look very alive for a dead woman Shea.”

“Half of my legs had to be grafted.” she said, and Ben cringed.

“Still, you’re here, that says a lot.” he said, index finger grazing his chin in thought, and Shea raised an eyebrow.

“That could mean anything.” she said, and he laughed and narrowed his eyes.

“How so?”

“You know I killed Julius.”

“I also know why.” he said, “It’s a sad state of affairs, but karma comes to collect on all of us eventually. You can relax Shea, if I wanted to kill you, I certainly wouldn’t be doing it myself.”

“You don’t wanna kill me?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” Ben replied, “though I do enjoy the straight shooting questions, it’s a breath of fresh air.”

    Shea felt all tension leave her body then and she relaxed, pulling over the menu to read.

“Alright, what’re we eating?”

“Whatever you want, my treat.” he said,

“That’s a dangerous thing to say around me, King.” she replied and he chuckled.

“I stand by it.”

        Shea glanced back down at the menu, her head spinning from how posh everything sounded: Classic moules marinieres, Linguine vongole,Poissons du jour, She spied a Tuna Carpaccio down the list and kind of had an idea what it was so her choice was made.

“So if your plan wasn’t to poison me horribly under the pretence of dinner, why did you ask me here?” she asked as the waiter came by, pencil at the ready to take their order, Ben stared for a few moments before turning to the man.

“Yes, so I’ll have the Roasted Monkfish and whatever the lady wants, and ah-a bottle of your best wine as well, you good with wine?” he asked her and she nodded, alcohol was alcohol at the end of the day.

“And I’ll have the Tuna Carpaccio please.” she said, and the water jotted it all down.

“Excellent choices, I’ll be back in a few minutes with your wine sir-madam.” he said, inclining his head towards them both before taking their menus, and Ben waited until her was gone before leaning forwards.

“Stilwater’s yours again, so what’s next?”

“Next?”

“Yeah, fighting’s only ever the half of it, the real hard work is maintaining it, so what’s your plan?”

“I have no plan.” Shea replied, they were just trying to survive from day to day, never really gave her the time to be dreaming up schemes. “The Saints have had it rough the last few months, I’m happy to give them a breather while I figure a few things out.”

“Fair, fair. I...have heard a few things, How are you and Gat holding up?”

“We’ve...been better.” Shea answered, deliberately vague, “We’re OK though, in the grand scheme. You mentioned it yourself that I’m doing well for being dead.” she said, thanking the waiter as he poured their wine then left them with the bottle on their table. She leaned forward, glass in hand. “Pierce says hi by the way, you might not know him by name but he was a VK back in the day, one of the ones that stayed loyal to you during the coup.”

“Evidently, since he joined up with you. I might have sent a few of my guys in your direction, you know the ones that don’t do well out of a gang?” he asked and she nodded, “you probably don’t know how many ex Vice Kings walk among the Saints.”

“Well if I don’t know, they’re causing no harm, I’m not going to send away loyal people for who they used to be. I’ve had too many friends stab me in the back to learn that lesson.”

“You don’t lay hands on your own?” he asked, taking a sip.

“If I have to do that, they’re not my own.” she smirked, “Dex, Troy, Julius, I used to party with them, and now they either directly or indirectly tried to put me in the ground. I train my people, but I never push them farther than they can handle. I need them ready, not burnt out.”

“Your leadership style’s very hands on.”

“It’s me King, I don’t think it could be anything else.”

“True, hey if it works for you, I’m hardly the one that should be judging.”

“Yeah but what did you do after you decided to lay the weapons down, go into big business?” she asked, taking a drink, and King frowned, tapping a hand on the table.

“It was the only way I could go really. I couldn’t end the Vice Kings obviously, you’ve seen what creating a power vacuum does.” Shea nodded, remembering that fecking boat again, “Great in theory, but Jules always was too much of an idealist. Put him in denial more often than not.”

“Cut off the Hydra’s head, three more grows in its place.”

“Exactly.”

         Shea frowned and sipped at her wine, it’s true that the city was theirs and she had no intention of disbanding the Saints now it was, like Ben just said, they could do without the messiness that Julius caused five years ago. But where could she take the Saints? Their enemies were gone, they’d have nothing to do, and the gang was unruly at the best of times. She would have to find other avenues for them to expend their energy, but what?

“What do you think I should do?” she asked, and Ben chuckled, shaking his head and raising a hand.

“Oh no no no, I’m not telling you what to do? You got to figure it out on your own I’m afraid.”

“Ben.” Shea snapped, incredulous.

“Hey I’m retired, I’m here to guide you, not shove you into a box.”

“Laaaame.” she huffed, downing her wine, “Can I get more?” she asked.

“Knock yourself out, just save the passing out for when you get home though.”

“Ah, I’m sure Johnny can haul me off the floor if I do, you should see him now Ben, jail made him super hench.”

“He’s living with you?”

“For now yeah, truth be told, I want to keep an eye on him, you know?” she asked, and Ben finished his own drink, and he too poured more.

“You just make sure you look after eachother yeah? Not a day goes by when I don’t miss Angela, it’s not the exact same situation as you but I could’ve done with my best friend still with me.”

         He looked sad and wistful when he said that, and Shea nodded, she understood, nothing worse than losing your best friend somewhere along the way, with them taking arms against you later. Maybe that’s why Ben didn’t want to kill her, because he understood how she felt right now, she wondered if the thought of killing Julius crossed Ben’s mind after, only to realise when he came down to it that he could never really do it. God knows Shea still found it playing round and round in her head as time went on.

“So,” she asked, wanted to steer the conversation into lighter waters, “How’s retirement treating you?”

“Well my books still selling well, they want to turn it into a movie, and Michael Clarke Duncan’s supposed to playing me, so-pretty fucking well.” he grinned, “not what I had in mind five years ago, but I like where I am at least.”

“Am I in it?” she asked,

“You mean you haven’t read it yet? Christ playa, I say all these nice things about you and you don’t have the courtesy to read it?”

“Hey, I’m not retired remember?” She chuckled, “mama’s still getting that illegitimate coin.”

“But coin nonetheless.”

“Of course.” she grinned, then her eyes flicked to their food coming and she grinned wider, she couldn’t wait for this. It was when they were both taking a wine break when Ben leaned forwards across the table.

“Did I tell you I’ve been shortlisted for the Baker award, first non fiction, autobiographical listing in thirty years.” he said, and both of Shea’s eyebrows raised, that was surely impressive.

Wow.” she said, then leaned forwards too, “I got a bullet to curve round a wall the other week.” she said, to highlight their different lives and Ben laughed, then she did, The rest of the dinner went by in a blur of anecdotes and laughter, and when they both stepped outside while Ben waited for his limo to pull round, he turned to her.

“You know, I haven’t said this, but you really remind me of Angela.”

“Your sister was Irish?” she asked, and Ben smiled.

“No, but she always knew more than she let on.” he sighed, then as he watched the limo pull up, he shoved his hands in his pockets, “just...take care yeah? Don’t let yourself be cornered again, always give yourself an out.” he said, them waved as he dipped inside the car and shut the door, and Shea waved back until she could no longer see him.

       She wasn’t going to sleep tonight, she didn’t sleep much as it was but everything the dinner brought up kept swimming through her wine brain. Angela King, Julius Little, plans now the fighting had stopped etc. She knew she’d have to speak to Johnny about all this when she got back but right now the bigger challenge for Shea O’Connor was to find her way back home.

#Saints Row #rowvember2020 #benjamin king #boss shea

[papa-nikki-writes]

Rowvember day 12-School

1. an institution for educating children.

2. Send to school, to educate

Summary: At Shaundi’s request, Shea has started teaching her a few martial arts moves, but as she’s teaching, she finds she misses being the Disciple.

Words: 644

“No sweetie, you’ve gotta plant your feet a bit further apart,” Shea said, hurrying over to guide where Shaundi’s legs needed to be, “spread your weight evenly on both legs otherwise if you get hit you’ll go flying, and what’s more you try to retaliate, it won’t hold much power.” she continued, stepping back a bit, analysing Shaundi’s stance before moving forwards, “turn a little more this way.” she said, touching a hand to Shaundi’s waist to move her gently. “Now go.” she said, stepping back, and Shaundi drew her fist back and punched the bag hooked to the ceiling.

      It few back further than before and Shaundi’s face lit up and she turned to Shea, throwing her arms in the air in celebration.

“I did it!” she cheered, and Shea smiled, warmth bursting in her chest.

“You sure did,” she said as they hi fived, “keep practising though, you’ll find that you’ll be able to hit harder soon enough, it’s all about balance.”

“Will you teach me to headbutt without it hurting?”

“No such thing.” Shea shook her head, “You’re smashing the hardest part of your head into the hardest part of another’s, it’s always gonna hurt.”

“But it looks so cool when you do it though, like ‘fuck off’.” she added, mimicking the action and Shea laughed.

“It’s my favourite way to start a fight, won’t lie. My stepdad used to like watching ’Boys from the black stuff’ when I was younger, Yosser used to start fights like that and I picked it up. It’s not generally done because it hurts you too.”

“Ever thought about teaching?”

“Martial arts?” Shea asked, and Shaundi nodded, Shea chuckled, thinking it was better for everyone involved that she didn’t have the capacity to teaching anything else. “Well yeah, I thought I might run my own dojo once, but shit happens and you make do with what life gives you. Now go again, lets see if you remember.”

       Shea watched Shaundi gear up for another punch, shifting her weight before drawing her fist back and forcing it forwards, knocking the bag swinging once more,

“Easy!” Shaundi said, and Shea smirked and folded her arms.

“Good, now pair it with a punch from your other hand straight after.” she said, and Shaundi looked at her. “Go on.” Shea insisted, “same principle, just your less dominant side.”

“It’s going to be shit.” Shaundi countered.

“Of course it is, everyone’s is. You have to get used to using it though.”

       Shaundi punched with her right hand instead and the bag barely moved, as expected, and Shaundi growled in frustration.

“Damn it!”

“Now now sweetie, it doesn’t come easy, you have to work, and keep working, and if I make it look easy, it’s because I’ve been fighting since I was eight.”

“Eight?! What happened, they steal your juice box?!”

“Nah, they called my mum a slag.” Shea replied, and Shaundi blinked.

“Well shit, fuck ‘em up I guess.” she said, as Shea laughed again.

“Exactly, little pricks never messed with me after that.” she said, before clapping her hands, “now come on, keep focused, we can go for a break in half an hour.”

“Sweet.” Shaundi replied, and Shea could hear her stomach growling from here. And as she observed she got to thinking. She missed working in a dojo, she missed just cutting loose and not having to worry about anything outside it for as long as a lesson went on, and not for nothing, she had wanted to learn Muay Thai since forever.

       It would feel weird learning after so long, but martial arts was the only thing she enjoyed as a kid, and she could always teach the Saints a few more useful moves. All handy things in her opinion. She didn’t want to learn from just anyone however, she wanted to learn from the best.

#Saints Row #rowvember 2020 #shaundi #boss shea

[papa-nikki-writes]

Rowvember day 11-Profit

Profit

Definition

1. A financial gain, especially the difference between the amount earned and the amount spent in buying, operating, or producing something.

2. Advantage; benefit.

Summary: Pierce has always had an eye for opportunity, and that doesn’t change with his time in the Saints, now the Sons of Samedi aren’t his jurisdiction but that doesn’t mean he can’t offer helpful advice, right?

Words: 1,453

Money talks, Pierce had known that from a younger age than most, they always say money can’t buy happiness, that it isn’t everything, but in Pierce’s opinion those that said that usually knew nothing about struggling. If money was the only barrier between not eating right for a week or two, when you finally got food in you’d be laughing right?

      Money had also seen the rich judges son spared jail when Pierce had been locked up and the key thrown away, they were both dealing, they were both ex Vice Kings, it should have been fair. But it wasn’t. It never would’ve been. So when Pierce finally gotten out of jail he swore he’d do everything in his power to get money at any cost, to be rich, to be famous, so that the system couldn’t touch him.

     When he got out of jail however, he found Stilwater burning, and burning far worse than he had seen at the height of his stint in the Vice Kings, and his money making schemes were abandoned in favour of just staying alive. You watch, you wait, you build of course, a sentiment from Benjamin King he still held close to the chest, he would get his shot, he just had to wait it out. So the day he got that call from Gat out of the blue he saw his chance.

“O’Connor’s comin’ to get you, be ready.” was the sign off to the call, and after putting what would be his future Boss to the test, he knew this was where he had to be, cleaning up the city and maybe making a bit of money while he was at it.

       Boss was...difficult sometimes to say the least, charging headfirst into everything and everyone was a bit of a culture shock for someone that modelled himself after King, but he was learning to adapt. Or at least he thought he was, some days all he and Boss would do was argue all day, and it would put that in doubt.

       He tried to tell her, many times that whatever she needed he could get it done, he was confident, he got this, just listen and she’d take offence, but it wasn’t his fault he was competent, he just wanted her to see that. This wasn’t his first rodeo.

“And it isn’t mine either.” she snapped, “thank you very much.”

“I’m just sayin’, if we want to corner the Loa dust market, it isn’t enough to just destroy the Samedi’s, we need to have a hook, we need to have them keep comin’ back to us.” he said, and the Boss just stared at him. Her stare was intense, made him squirm in his seat like he was going to get the biggest telling off of his life, she shook her head, the hand she was was resting her head on shifted, gesturing vaguely in his direction.

“Why are you telling me things I already know, what’s your problem?”

“Problem? There’s no problem, I’m just trying to make you rich.”

“Great, then make me rich instead of just telling me you’re gonna make me rich.”

“We need a hook.” he repeated, and Shea turned her head to where Shaundi and Laura sat in awkward silence on the other side of the table with a smirk.

“Laura darling, put crack cocaine in the Loa dust I’m sure that’ll work.”

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Pierce asked,

“Boss, we can’t put crack cocaine in the Loa dust.” Shaundi said, deadpan.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?!” Pierce repeated, and Boss whipped her head back round to face him, the look she was giving him definitely putting him in mind of his hardass principal from middle school. It didn’t make either women any less terrifying however. He stood his ground though, he had to. She would respect that at least. “What’s your problem?” he asked her, and he saw both her eyebrows raise, heard Shaundi hiss, grimacing as though someone stabbed her with a red hot poker.

“Shaundi, Laura give us five minutes yeah.” Boss finally said, and they left in a flurry, eager to be out of there as Shea’s eyes never left his face, and it was then that he wondered if he’d made a mistake. “You wanna know what my problem is?” she asked.

“I know what your problem is, it’s the Dex Ultor thing innit?” he guessed, he asked around after he heard Vogel bring him up, nothing that came back was positive, and that’s who he reminded her of? He’d fucking leave that, Dex was no better than Warren Williams or Tanya Winters in his opinion. They had capitalised on what they had of course, but it wasn’t anything he wanted a part of. Boss smiled, and it was then that he realised he definitely made a mistake.

“Tell me some of your weaknesses, go.”

“Is this a job interview?” he asked.

“Go I said.” she insisted with a nod, and Pierce grinned nervously.

“I have no weaknesses, I told you, I just get it done.”

“Look, I’m not asking for childhood trauma, we’re not really there yet, but the fact that you can’t even tell me one lets me know I’m right.”

“What?” he asked confused, and she tilted her head to one side.

“You’ve got no self awareness.” she said, and Pierce laughed, he couldn’t help it, The Boss, the walking nuke was telling him he had no self awareness?

“I have loads of self awareness.”

“Great, then tell me a weakness.”

“You tell me your weakness.” he shot back, and Boss smiled and held out a hand.

“Hi, I’m Shea, I’m an arsehole whose only skill in life is basically hurting people. I also don’t know how to delegate-” she paused, her brow furrowing, “-I could go on for the craic like but you aren’t ready for that conversation.” she said as Pierce awkwardly shook her hand, she took it back then, gesturing towards him. “See? It’s not that difficult. If you want to be confident, be confident I love that, but I’ve been around the block as much as you have, and I have to ask why you decided to follow me if you’re just gonna tell me what I already know, doesn’t that waste our time at the end of the day?”

“I guess?” Pierce asked, shrugging, and she tilted her head again.

“Now lets hear what you’ve got, your real plan this time.”

        Now that took him by surprise, usually Boss only listened to his plans when Shaundi said it, but there she was, staring at him again, this time expecting him to say something.

“Er, I was thinking of doing like a bulk offer yeah? You buy so much, maybe like ten bags and you get one free or something?”

“What like a Buckstar loyalty card?”

“Yeah, we can make ‘em on the cheap once we have our template- plus, one thing I know is that people like to collect shit,” he said, pulling a piece of paper towards him and drawing a happy stick person with ten crudely drawn bags on their arms. Boss leaned forward, and it emboldened him, she was listening at least, not outright slating the idea.

“It could work.” she mused.

“I mean, what have we really got to lose right? If we get the market cornered, once the money is flowing, one or two bags here and there in the grand scheme of things isn’t going to make much of a dent in our potential earnings.” he said, drawing stick figures of him and Boss rolling in money. “We get rich, and we have a happy customer loyal to us, what do you think?” he asked, looking round at her. She thought for a second as Pierce waited on the edge of his seat, before she nodded.

“I like it.” she said, and he breathed a sigh of relief, thank fuck for that. “You always had an interest in marketing, Pierce?”

“Nah, I just know what people like, I used to hit the library a lot at school, picked up a few Psychology books to read through and shit.”

“And how did you find Psychology?”

“Interesting, people are-well they are interesting. Oh!” he said, a sudden thought coming to him. “How about we spread a rumour that the Samedi curse their Loa Dust?” he asked and Boss tilted her head to one side.

“What if they aren’t superstitious.”

“Well we could always say it’s also cut with glass or bath salts.” he answered with a shrug, and a smirk pulled her lips upwards.

“Pierce, you’re a genius.” she said, and Pierce beamed, the compliment meaning more than he thought it would.

#Saints Row #rowvember2020 #pierce washington

[papa-nikki-writes]

Rowvember day 10- Belief

Definition

1. An acceptance that something exists or is true, especially one without proof.

2. Trust, faith, or confidence in (someone or something).

Summary

After getting back from the hospital turned Charnel-house, Johnny starts hearing the Saints talking. Apparently The Boss had been very, very busy while he was laid out. Wrangling with the beliefs he held before he got taken out, he decides he needs to talk to Boss herself to make sense of it.

Words: 2, 248

“So Julius was the one that blew Boss up.”

“Wasn’t he Boss’ Boss?”

“Yeah, decided to take her out.”

“Is that why she burned down the church?”

“No that was coz of Dex.”

“Dex wants to kill her now?! Who needs friends right?

Johnny stood, frozen at the top of the stairs, hand gripping the banister tight, his knuckles turning white as his head span, and Johnny didn’t know if it was from what he’d just heard or whether he was still suffering from the after-effects of being out for so long. He blinked and shook his head, heaving his bad leg into movement. Laying flat on his back had left it stiff and painful, another thing to add to his already sour mood. Shea hadn’t mentioned any of this at the hospital, was she even gonna tell him? He was the second in command, he’d have thought she’d known he’d like to be bothered with things like this.

        He grimaced as he felt pain knife up both his leg and his side and he doubled over, clutching at both his newest and his oldest war wound, white spotting in his vision. It passed soon enough, and Johnny could hear the Saints speak again.

“I wonder why she let Troy live though?” one mused, and Johnny looked up, his blood boiling. She had a chance at Troy and didn’t take it? Had he wormed his way out of his mess again?

“Yeah you’d have thought she’d want rid of the chief of police-”

“Oi dickhead, do you have any idea how hard they woulda came down on us if she busted Troy Bradshaw?! Boss did the right thing.”

“Well I thought she was scared of nothing and no man.” one huffed, and Johnny’s boiling blood continued to simmer as he dragged himself down the stairs, great, now people were questioning her. Fantastic.

“Only an idiot fears nothing Josh, you should be glad, since we’re following her.”

“I was supposed to be following a badass Ryan.” Josh replied, and Johnny had him in his sights, yeah she might have let Troy go but that didn’t make her any less of the badass she was. Ryan noticed Johnny approaching them, his face turning pale as he tried to communicate to Josh to shut up. However Josh did not shut up. “Y’hear all these stories of a tough motherfucker, killed Victor fucking Rodriguez, fought for two hours after a shot to the chest, three shots to the shoulder in the siege of Prawn court and still kept comin’-?”

“I can tell you right fuckin’ now that the stories are all true, I was there.” Johnny snarled, and Josh turned in his seat and froze.

“I-I-I-” he stammered and Johnny raised an eyebrow,

“Now if you have complaints about how she’s leadin;, fine, but you tell it to her face, not do-whatever the fuck this is. Can’t criticise her lack of balls when yours seem to have shrivelled entirely.” he said, waving a hand, and Josh made to speak, his voice coming out in a squeak before he coughed.

“She let Bradshaw go.”

“And she’ll have her reasons, I just woke up and I know this,” Johnny explained as though the man was five,

“I was just talking-”

“Then talk, but my previous statement still stands- you-” he said to Ryan instead, “Where did she get to?”

“She took Pierce to help her clear out some of the last Samedi.” Ryan said, taking a drink from his beer before lowering it, “You won’t have heard man- The General’s dead, the Samedi are done.”he added, and his face split into a grin. “First gang down! Isn’t that great?!”

       Yeah it was downright fantastic, one of the main lieutenants of the Ronin down along with The Samedi in a matter of weeks? Shea was really tearing the city apart.

“Someone’s been busy.” he mused, though when he had woken in the hospital, and looked across to see Shea knocked out at his bedside, he’d seen it, how tired she looked even when she ‘rested’. He wondered if she’d even slept outside of just picking somewhere to collapse.

“It’s damn good to see you back though Gat, you had us worried for a bit.”

“It’s damn good to be back.” he nodded, and he meant it-which surprised him, not one to miss out on when dirt needed doing after all but he hadn’t processed everythin just yet, and finding all this out second hand knocked him for six. Was he, Shea and E’esh the only real things in that whole fucking gang back then?

       It felt real at the time, his faith in Julius was unshakeable at the beginning, but when Lin was murdered and Shea almost along with her, when he was taken by the Vice Kings and he only sent an injured Shea in against Tony Green? He began to question if the man could have it all handled when he was holed up in the Church all day. He wondered if Julius was slowly breaking under the pressure, but to be the one to blow up that boat and destroy everything they’d all been fighting for in one swoop?

     He couldn’t forgive that, would never. It wasn’t all Julius’ fault, not for everything, but he certainly set the chain of events in motion that led them here, with E’esh dead and his guts threatening to spill out of his body at any moment, it was hard not to hate him.

       Voices brought his attention to the top of the stairs, a group of voices laughing, Pierce, Shea and Tobias, well that was a nice surprise. They all stopped on the stairs when they realised that Johnny was stood there, Tobias’ face not breaking into any kind of emotion as he said.

“Gat! Good to see you man!” in that weird monotone voice that, as quiet as it was still carried to where he stood, and Johnny nodded in acknowledgement with a smile.

“Likewise, been keeping well?”

“Yeah,” he answered, raising his arms and stretching, “Had restless trigger fingers, you know how it is.” he said as he walked over and hugged him, clapping him on the back, his tone pointed. “Now you need anythin’, you let me and Laura know.” he said, and Johnny’s heart wrenched as he remembered Aisha wasn’t on this Earth anymore. He still refused to believe it, couldn’t believe it.

“Thanks.” he said, tone clipped, he didn’t mean for it to sound cold, but Tobias didn’t seem to take any offence from it. Tobias moved away for Pierce to come forward and grasp Johnny’s hand before clapping him on the back too, nodding in respect, and Johnny nodded back before turning to Shea.

“I need to talk to you.” he said in a low voice, and she tilted her head to one side, eyes sweeping him for a moment before she nodded.

“I thought you might.” she answered, her face and tone serious, so she knew exactly what it was about, “office is free, or we could go back to the room I put you in?”

“Whatever.” he shrugged, and Shea nodded, swallowing hard before turning to Pierce and Tobias. “I’ll be back, just gotta take care of business.”

“It’s cool Boss, we got you both.” Pierce replied, and Shea smiled slightly before turning to Johnny and beckoning him to follow her, he did so, and he found she was heading back upstairs, it was alright with him. He had to get used to moving sometime. He followed her into the room and no sooner had he sat on the bed and she had shut the door that she whirled round.

“You need to take it easy.” she said.

“I feel fine.”

“You passed out while we were being shot at and you passed out again when I got you in the helicoptor, please pace yourself, you are not at a hundred percent yet.”

“Well that makes two of us don’t it? I’ve heard about everythin’ you’ve done since I got laid out, the church Shea? Julius? Dex? Troy? The Samedi, you’ve been a one woman fuckin’ wreckin’ ball!”

“Shit.” she replied, rubbing her eyes before placing her hands on her hips, “That’s why I wanted to be here when you woke up,” she shook her head and looked at him, “It should always have come from me, I’m sorry.”

Johnny sighed and shook his head, making her feel bad wasn’t his intention for this conversation.

“It’s...not your fault, it’s fully fucked my head up, fuck knows how you’re dealin’.” Johnny clutched at his head and shook again, like his brain was an etcher-sketch he had to clear, and she shrugged.

“I drank a lot and shot a lot more people.” she said, so plainly Johnny chuckled despite himself, despite the subject matter.

“Ay, we sure know how to pick ‘em, don’t we?” he said, and Shea, again smiled a small smile.

“I really thought we did something back then.” she said, wistful as she stepped forwards and sat next to him, hands clasped in her lap as she stared at the walls, and he reached behind her and rubbed her back before folding his arms, sighing.

“Me too.”

“And I thought you’d be mad.” she said, looking round at him, and he raised an eyebrow. At first, on hearing that Troy got away, yeah he was mad, but now that he was sat here, saw her face to face, he couldn’t be. He’d lost one of his girls, he wasn’t going to spend his time being mad at the other when she was trying her best.

“I’m not mad at you.” he replied, shaking his head, “you had to go out and handle business, and you did. Can’t expect more of you than that.”

“Thanks man.” she smiled, then promptly looked down at the floor, smiling, and he found it both endearing and hilarious that she she still looked for his approval, in his mind she had surpassed the need for it years ago.

“So uh-why did you burn the church down?” he asked, and her head shot up.

“To piss off and keep Ultor busy of course.” she smirked, before her face fell and she leaned forward on her lap, “we need some room to breathe and we can’t do that with Ultor on our arse.”

“So the Samedi-”

“Got absolutely fucking annihilated.” she replied, “if I was playing before, I’m not now. Too much is at stake and we lost too much already,” she shook her head, “I can’t do it. I can’t fuck about.”

“But then what about Troy? Why’d you let him go if you’re not fucking around?”

“Troy?” she asked with a sigh, “cards on the table Johnny I couldn’t do it, I just couldn’t. I heard the wiretaps, he didn’t know about the boat-and he kept me alive when everyone was telling him to pull the plug. He’s a liar but I honestly don’t think he’s an enemy.” she explained, and Johnny felt annoyance burn at the pit of his stomach, he didn’t agree with that particular decision, but he could respect it.

“Fine. If you vouch for him? Fine.” he said, and she leaned back, narrowing her eyes.

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t be followin’ you if I didn’t think your judgement was sound.” he said, and her eyes narrowed even further, “What?” he asked, “If it goes south, you’ll deal with it, I know you will.” he shrugged, and she nodded once.

“You bet.”

“Then I ain’t worried.” he replied, and that was that. She smiled and tapped him once on the shoulder as she got to her feet, crossing the room to the door, before she bit her lip, looking around at the walls before she took her hand off the door handle.

“I uh, took everything not nailed down from the house and put it in storage, when you feel up to it we can sort through what you want.” she said, and the change in his face must have registered, as she looked down at her feet, “I’m sorry if I was overstepping, I just didn’t want you to worry about anything when you should be healing.”

        There it was, the sinking feeling, the blood chilled in his veins as he once again had to be reminded that this was really, really it.

“It’s fine. Thank you.” he said, again hearing himself angrier than he’d meant, “you’re right. I don’t think I ever wanna go back there.” he added, and she nodded.

“If you need me, I’m about here 24/7 right now, I’m getting my new penthouse renovated in The Row and it’s gonna take a few months so-” she shrugged, “-just give me a shout.”

        He nodded and she left, and he was both grateful and anxious. He wanted to be on his own for a bit, to sort through...everything but his brain was telling him to keep everyone in sight at all times, it was stupid really, Boss was the toughest he’d known and Purgatory was safe. But still his mind kept asking what ifs and playing out the fight with Jyunichi in different horrifying ways, kept making him imagine the Ronin storming Purgatory and slaughtering everyone, and him with his side couldn’t do anything to stop it. It was maddening what his own brain was torturing him with. All he had now was the Saints, and nothing and nobody was gonna take that from him.

#Saints Row #rowvember2020 #Johnny Gat #slight Bossgat if you squint #nothing romantic in here they would just literally do anything for eachother and I love that #platonic or romantic they just work

[papa-nikki-writes]

Rowvember day 9-Patience

Definition

The capacity to accept or tolerate delay, problems, or suffering without becoming annoyed or anxious.

Summary:Troy’s finding it more and more difficult to seperate himself from the Saints

Words: 687

Troy’s granny, God rest her soul, always said he had the patience of a Saint, but as he sat looking around at them inside the church, well that was just bullshit. Nobody here had any.

       Some wanted the fast cars, the fast women right the fuck now, and didn’t seem to want to do any of the dirt to clean up the Row, and the ones that did do the work wanted it all done yesterday. He admired their passion of course, but Rome wasn’t built in a day, and systematically wiping out the gangs that plagued Stilwater was proving harder than his ‘betters’ thought it would be. They thought if they sent him in undercover it would be easy to take these gangs down, but it ran so much deeper, the players in the game were so varied, some unpredictable, the notes he made before he went in had proved useless.

        Though it was on days like this, when he could kick back and just observe with a beer, that it didn’t feel like work at all. He was respected here, more so than he had been in the force, his opinions and strategies were listened to, even if there weren’t any agreement, and it was bittersweet in the fact that as friendly as they were, if they ever found out who he really was, they would most certainly kill him. It’s what happened when you betrayed the crew. It was a formality. He often wondered who would be the one to do it.

       Monroe blew up his phone daily, and all Troy could tell him was just to be patient, that he was working on it, that he would get it done. He was promised a lucrative promotion if he pulled it off, the only problem with that is that he was starting to doubt if that was where his heart still lay.

      Could it all cave in? At a moments notice the power balance in the city shifted, some days it was turned right on it’s head when a major player got taken out. Checkmate. The end.

      The Saints were stretched thin, fighting a war on three fronts, and one person was bearing the brunt of all those three branches, the new girl; Shea, she called herself. She was at the back of the church, a circle of Saints around her as she and Gat circled eachother. Among those watching stood Aisha, her eyes travelling between the both of them. They did this all the time, it was just a playfight, he guessed it was how they were suddenly able to occupy the same room as eachother now. Gat had been teaching Shea how to handle a gun so he gathered this was the trade off, Shea teaching him what she learned as a streetfighter. Great. Making them even more dangerous. He would have to watch them, they were too unpredictable, they’d definitely be the cause of some of those days when the power balance turned upside down.

      But there was something about them, how they were unapologetically who they were that Troy envied, because he’d never be able to truly be himself here, neither could he back at the precinct, he was stuck in a kind of limbo, torn between two worlds. He wanted to be free like them. Troy realised that he should be horrified at wanting to be like those two thugs, but it was what he said to Shea that day in the car.

You roll long enough in a gang, pretty soon you end up thinkin’ like ‘em.

       He had observed the other gangs, knew who they were, what made them tick, but the Saints? The Saints were harder to pin down because they just seemed chaos personified, and it was that that made Monroe put him in the catchment area of the Saints in the hope Julius would pick him up, and he had, and now he was Julius Little’s right hand man. It wasn’t enough, it would never be enough until all this was done. He wondered how many times his patience would be tested before then,

#Saints Row #rowvember2020 #troy bradshaw

[papa-nikki-writes]

Rowvember day 8-Variant

Definition

tending to change or alter; exhibiting variety or diversity; varying: variant shades of colour. not agreeing or conforming; differing, especially from something of the same general kind. not definitive, as a version of part of a text; different; alternative: a variant reading.

Summary: Shaundi reflects on who she was, and who she wants to be as she looks at the people around her, we know, out of all the characters in Saints Row, that’s she’s the one most in a state of flux, so I thought it’d be fun to dive in to it.

Words:1,294

Who’d have thought a trip to the hair salon would bring with it so much anxiety? Shaundi sighed, realising she was biting her nails again and lowered her hands, feeling the throb of biting off too far, down to the quick. She was in her favourite place, in the gazebo by the water in the Redlight district, she still came here, often when Purgatory got too loud or when she was worried which was….a lot more often than she’d tell anyone.

       From here she could see the fish packing plant in the projects district, the smoke billowing into the air over the docks, and even now she was still bitter about how all that shit with Veteran Child ended, she knew him as Neil, but when he fell in with the Samedi he changed, and she changed along with him. She had to because she loved him and she wanted him to love her. Sure I’ll go on a few runs with you, why not? She loved being with him, but it meant she didn’t know how deep into this shit she was getting.

       She had saved VC from being absolutely torn apart more times than she could count, from both clients and the Samedi. Mr Sunshine had terrified her the most, she had seen him take a full clip to the chest and still get back up to slam the machete in that other runners stomach, was lucky she’d not been lumped in with him. She was lucky, had always been lucky, she just didn’t realise how much when Veteran Child left her to rot in jail, at the time she was devastated, now she thanked her stars that she saw him for what he’d become. He wasn’t the sweet boy she fell in love with anymore, he was Veteran Child, the self serving, cowardly lieutenant of The sons of Samedi. That particular angle of defense in court got her five years, instead of 40, she was lucky.

       In jail she tried to be tough because she felt that that was how she had to be, setting up a Pruno ring to pass the time on her sentence, many didn’t pay up, and by God she tried to get her money, but she would often return to her cell with a black eye, but still, she was lucky, it could have been worse with nobody there to have her back. She was used to it by now, but her heart was a lead weight in her chest, dragging her down and down until she wondered what was the point.

       Then came the day she met Johnny Gat, it was a year into her sentence, and there were rumblings of her being let out early, the little girl that got in too deep, of course they didn’t know about her Pruno ring, but whisperings attracted his attention.

      God she was terrified of him them, she wasn’t stupid, she knew the stories. Those that said he was a washed up banger didn’t see him in jail, or if they did they were promptly put down, nothing more than an addition to an already long, long list of names. He hadn’t lost a step, which was why she was surprised when he wanted to do business. He became her enforcer then, somewhat quieter than she expected him to be, he did his bit then went back to his cell, and any attempts at getting to know who she was working with were promptly shut down.

“I got your back, that’s all you need to know.” he would say, and he very much did have her back, but he still terrified her then. It was only when he got out of jail and she met Boss and Aisha that she started seeing the person behind all the stories, or maybe he only felt like himself again when they were around.

      Speaking of, The Boss terrified her too, not so much now, though she was still very much intense, going from one extreme of the ever disciplined student of martial arts to the hot mess leading the partying at Purgatory right at this moment. There was still very much a wall around Boss, but Shaundi found it more something to relate to now, rather than a challenge or a threat like she used to think it was. Boss was very much like Johnny in that regard, you wear purple, she’s got you.

       And then there’s Pierce, annoying, but again, loyal. She could do without his old woman nitpicking of her day in, day out, so she had no qualms stealing info he found out to be the first to tell Boss. It started out something she did to try and make Boss like her, since they started on the wrong foot, but now it had become a game she was fond of, winding up Pierce was her favourite thing to do. He had become like a brother, that annoying brother that never let anything slide. Though if she heard anyone badmouthing him on the streets she’d chew them the fuck out, only one that could wind him up was her, after Carlos and Aisha, nobody messed with her people.

        She missed Carlos around Purgatory, brightening the room with his compliments and his little ‘heehee’ laugh, she’d confided in him once, told him how scared she felt surrounded by all these lions and it was Carlos that laughed and put her mind at ease.

       ‘Nah, they’re more like wolves, they look after their own.” he had said and it was that that prompted her to look deeper, at the looks she would see Johnny and Aisha share sometimes, the way her hand would find Johnny’s at a particular tense point in a horror movie, and he would grip Aisha’s hand tight, rub circles on the back of her hand with his thumb.

       Boss would get up to get everyone more popcorn with a knowing smile, ask if anyone wanted anything while she was up, then as the microwave hummed, the three of them would be talking, whispering in jokes and the kind of jibes that only friends would get away with, and by the time the microwave pinged, the gory part of the movie would have passed. All three of them knew how to handle a gun, all three were tough, but those gentler moments were their real strength.

      And in turn she found herself letting her own guard down, she found that she didn’t have to hide anything, had a hook up? Got some info? Great, it was all good. It made a nice change from spending time back at her mom’s house being called a whore everyday. Boss had said she didn’t care what she did as long as she was alright with it. That she was OK.

But then that unconditional respect made her question: Was she alright with it? Was she OK?

         Sex and drugs were great while doing them but she had come to the conclusion more and more that she didn’t know who she was without them, she had been so young when she got with VC, started wearing the dreads, started dressing like him, smoked with him, again, to try and make him like her.

       But in the end he had nearly killed her, and now everytime she looked in the mirror, all she saw was the girl that had been so desperate for love she would’ve done anything for him, and she hated it. The dreads had to go, everything had to go so she could figure out who she was again. Now she was here, stood in front of the hair salon, her courage was fading. Fading, but not gone. And so she took a deep breath, and stepped inside.

#Saints Row #rowvember2020 #shaundi

[papa-nikki-writes]

Rowvember day 7-Quote

“Isn’t all that rage so ugly? And isn’t it mine still? Good God, isn’t it mine?” -Ashe Vernon, from ‘buried’, Not a girl (via life in poetry)

Summary:Set after Revelations, Boss, under pressure decides to lash out and Bradshaw’s in her sights, but is there a method in her madness?

Words:2,405

“So if I told you to walk away, you would have said yes?”

“Fuck no! This is my city.”

“Jesus...you haven't learned a God-damn thing.”

      Shea swiped at her eyes angrily, how dare he? How dare Julius pass judgement on her like he was better than her? That no good, traitorous son of a bitch that-

That she once thought of as a father.

       How could she feel like this about killing him when he had almost killed her? With no remorse for it at all, was she really just a weapon he used to clear the streets? He just wound her up and watched her go, smashing through everything in her path and had the audacity to be afraid of what he created. He never gave her the choice to walk away, not like he had with King.

He never gave her the fucking choice.

        He was right about one thing though, she wouldn’t have stopped, she couldn’t. She had bled many times over for the Saints, watched her friends bleed, watched some die and she wasn’t going to be the one to slap them in the face in return for all they had given and just walk.

       That gunshot had ended him in life, but not in her mind and she punched the steering wheel in rage, the pain gave her a brief reprieve from the whirlwind of shit flying round her brain.

       She couldn't even remember when she was last at peace, she didn't know if she was ever at peace. When she slept the nightmares came, when she was awake she dwelled on it. She truly felt like she was losing her mind. The abyss of the coma seemed like it was a life away, that it had happened to a different person; and maybe she was exactly that. A different person, an imitation of the girl she used to be. She wanted her back, but it was too late for that.

         She wasn’t just Shea O’Connor anymore, she was The Boss, and the problem she was having was merging those two parts of her together. Rage helped, it was there before the Boss and it was going to be there after, and that was was she’d consistently latch onto, the only thing familiar in all this mess.

        Her phone started ringing, it had been non stop for the last hour, and it was probably her lieutenants, She should answer, but she ignored it, kicking her way through the old mission house to get down to Purgatory because she didn’t want to wait for the lift.

      The Saints behind the last door scattered as she busted through it, moving out of her way as she stormed through the club, down the stairs and into the garage, where there were a couple of tanks of gasoline. She grabbed them and hauled them up, promptly heading back for the steps. That’s when she saw a Saint break off from the rest and she tried to speed up with her cargo, but Rocco was unburdened, and quickly caught her on the steps in the old mission cellar.

“Who you burning Boss?” he asked, walking alongside her with hands clasped behind his back.

“Nobody.” she answered shortly, and Rocco closed his eyes and nodded.

“It’s not a person is it?” he guessed, and Shea froze and looked up at him. Rocco was 6’4 and a giant of a man, but a gentle one at that, at least with her-back in the day or even now, and the only person that had been doing this longer than even she or Johnny, she respected the hell out of him, but right now she was annoyed that he’d guessed her target so easily. “I’m calling Shaundi.” he said, his hands going for his phone, and Shea reached over to stop him.

“No.”

“Why? Because she’d stop you?” Rocco asked, “I’ve been watching the news all morning, the church is swarmed with cops, Troy’s there.” he said and a fresh wave of rage rose from the dark pit of her stomach.

“Well then he should know better than to get in my fucking way.” she hissed.

“He’s gonna be hurting after Julius was found this morning, and you’re going after our church?! What’s Johnny gonna think when he wakes up to a burnt out Saints Row?”

       Shea pursed her lips and glared at him, dropping the tanks of gasoline with authority, and also because they were too heavy. She was hurting too, couldn’t he see that?

“That’s the point Roc! Have you even been there? It’s not our church anymore.” she snapped, and Rocco folded his arms. “Julius set the bomb on the yacht, and Dex sent this fucking private army after both of us last night.” she said, trying to make him at least understand where she was coming from, “I’m sending a message to Ultor, you don’t need to agree, but he needs to know that if he wants to kill me? He can come and do it himself.” she said, hauling the tanks up again and storming onwards, and Rocco shook his head.

“Dex is trying to kill you now?! He wouldn’t!” he said, and Shea smiled a mirthless smile and shrugged.

“Sorry you had to find out this way.” she said as Rocco dragged his hands over his face as these revelations sank in.

“Leah’s gonna freak.”

“Welcome to the club.” Shea replied, then turned and headed up. She didn’t particularly want to be the bearer of bad news, to tell Rocco that he, like she and Johnny had bled for people that didn’t so much as care about the level of sacrifice they’d given. Didn’t want to admit that she had been well and truly manipulated, when she had previously figured herself a decent judge of character. It had made her question herself, contributed to this lost feeling as she struggled to figure out who she was now.

       She was hurt, she could admit that however, it burned through the numbness deep down and animated the rage she clung to, and now she was going to unleash it.

***

The police gathered at the church had no idea what was coming for them, she came down on them in a hail of bullets and limbs, stalking straight for Troy. They had pulled him behind cover, guns pointed at Shea but she kept moving, kept advancing forwards, cutting a bloody path straight towards him.

        He didn’t fight her, even when she wrapped a forearm around his neck and turned with him, using him as a shield, and the bullets immediately ceased.

“Me and you are gonna have a little chat, yeah mate?” she hissed in his ear and again he didn’t move, just seemed to accept whatever she planned to dish out, allowing her to drag him inside the church as she took out any cop stupid enough to stick their head out of cover.

     The fight continued inside the church, but as her meat shield began to weigh her down she promptly slammed the butt of her pistol into the side of Troy’s head, he crumpled in her arms and she dumped him behind a pew for cover while she picked off the police inside here too, not stopping until everyone was dead but her and Troy. She went outside then, and only then, to grab the tanks of gas.

         That’s when she got to her real work, smashing her foot through pews, ripping the plaques off the walls and adding them to the piles of broken pieces or the new circle of kindling she had made around Troy’s unconscious form, then she picked up the gas tank, splashing the gas all over the church walls and floor, then the second went over the circle of kindling around Troy.

      He began to stir then, his hands moving up to push up from the floor, he stared at the ground in confusion, and Shea stopped and put the tank down, watching his face shift from confusion to realisation as the pungent smell of gas reached his nose.

“Your ‘chats’ seem like an elaborate murder suicide plot.” Troy winced as he got to his feet, not as agile as he used to be, Shea noted, but who would if all you did was sit behind a desk all day?

“Oh I don’t know, I’m just winging this to be honest.” she replied, and Troy narrowed his eyes, and she saw fear there, probably more than if she said she was going to outright kill him. “I killed Julius.” she stated, looking him square in the eye as she said it, part of her expected him to feign surprise since it was him that told her the Ronin got him, but all he said was:

“I know.”

“You lied.”

“I know.”

“Then you know what I’m meant to do.” she said then, and Troy gave a small nod.

“I know.” he said again, and Shea closed her eyes for a moment, the ache of sheer exhaustion pulling at her, to drag her to sleep, lie in that fleeting darkness that was supposed to grant rest. She scratched her head with the barrel of her gun and cringed as her eyes burned, then she opened them, her gaze flicking back to his before raising her weapon. “Anything you wanna say?”

       Troy didn’t answer at first, just looked at her, pity in his eyes, and that was worse, it was one thing that Shea had to kill another old friend, he’d betrayed her, betrayed the gang, betrayed her friend, but the fact that he understood this made her skin crawl.

“I wish the Saints had found me first.” he said after a while, and her heart jolted and tears came to her eyes again, a wave rising until it came out as a sob, and the hand holding the gun shook.

“God fucking damn you, you fucking bastard.”

         He was a bastard for turning on the Saints, and he was a bastard for saving them too. He was a bastard because he lied so sweetly, so sincerely and she hated him for it. He was a bastard because he read her so well, knew that she was looking for an excuse, any excuse not to have to do this, and so the gun dropped by her side and she folded in on herself, gripping the sides of her head, fingers digging in her hair. A few moments passed before she heard footsteps, and he heaved himself down to sit next to her with an almighty sigh.

“So it was you at the station yesterday.” he said, and she lowered her arms and stared at the ceiling, blinking rapidly. She shouldn’t be falling apart like this.

“We needed the traffic cameras, and I knew you were holding something back.” she said, then shook her head, “I fucking asked you Troy, I fucking asked you if there was anything you knew that you hadn’t told me, and you swore there wasn’t. You swore as we stood in the morgue identifying Aisha” she snapped, then punched him hard in the arm, “you absolute fucking cunt!”

“Right, because you’re thinkin’ completely straight right now.” he rolled his eyes, rubbing his arms.

“Don’t fucking pretend you did it for my benefit!”

“Well shoot me for being worried about you-”

“-which can still be arranged.” she pointed out, raising her pistol, and his eyes flicked to it, then back at her.

“You’re goin’ through a lot.” he said, and Shea slowly turned to glare at him.

“I’ll be fine.” she replied, and Troy gave a pointed analysis of the church before fixing her with a look.

“Uh-huh.”

“If I’m pissed off, I’m fighting, I’m fine.” she said with a sigh, as sirens started blaring in the distance, coming closer, a squadron at least and she checked the ammo in her pistol before popping the clip back. “Time to go Troy, come on.” she said, gesturing for him to come over before she put her forearm round his neck and they frogmarched towards the exit, Shea only stopping to flick open her her lighter and throw it at a puddle of gas.

     It went up instantly, flames billowing up to the rafters, but Shea took no time to admire her handiwork, as she opened the back doors of her car and half threw Troy in the back before getting in the front, speeding away from the scene just as the sirens got impossibly loud, flooring it.

“Ultor’s gonna come after you for this.” Troy said, gazing behind them before turning in his seat, silent before adding, “but you knew that, didn’t you?”

“It’s what I’m counting on.” she replied quietly, glancing in the rear view mirror.

“Dex isn’t gonna go easy on you just because he used to roll with you.”

“No, but he was banking on me being too emotional to fight last night and it didn’t pan out how he wanted so he’s going to spend every waking moment figuring out his next move. Vogel’s all smiles for the camera so he’s gonna put everything into restoring the church and not revenge per se. I just bought some time.” she explained, with Johnny out and no feasible time he’d be back in the game, she had no choice, she’d need him to help her go after Ultor, and if he never woke up? She didn’t want to think about that. Just trying made her eye twitch, and her heart ache.

“Shit.” Troy replied, and he sounded impressed.

“I paid attention somewhere along the way.” she sighed, resting her head on her hand as she drove, and Troy leaned between the two front seats.

“Where we goin’?”

“Just finding somewhere to dump you.”

“Charmin’.”

“I could still put a bullet in you if you’d prefer?”

“I’m good.” Troy replied, leaning back with his hands up, he dropped them, looking out of the window at the buildings speeding by before he asked, “How’s Johnny?”

“He’s breathing, so there’s a chance.”

“He’s a stubborn fuck, just like you, he’ll be OK.” he said gently, and Shea sighed, he’d better be, it was going to be a hell of a lonelier world for her if both Aisha and Johnny left it.

#Saints Row #rowvember2020 #troy bradshaw #boss shea

[papa-nikki-writes]

Rowvember day 6- Apology

Summary:Johnny goes to Aisha’s graveside.Short and sweet this one, just wrote it off the top of my head.

Words: 485

An acknowledgment of an offence or failure, an expression of regret

Johnny was back again, he always would be. And he would always ask the same question; Why didn’t you let me go with you?

       Either it was meant to be a last hurrah of his brain as it slowly starved of oxygen, maybe it was the last wish of a dying man, but the cliché, the light, the tunnel, a loved one, It was all there. He had been torn then, between this life and the next, Boss pulling him one way, E’esh the other- but she had smiled her smile, and moved on without him, and all he had was the same fucking question to scream into the aether.

          He was sorry he wasn’t stronger, that he had let her down but the thing he was most sorry for, was that he didn’t spend more time with her. He had been so busy, doing shit for the gang, it was what he wanted to do, but if he’d had known that the clock was ticking, he would’ve played everything so so different. It brought a bitter taste to his mouth, and he didn’t think anyone could help him with it, with this. Boss would try, but at the end of the day, when Boss passed out on the sofa, either through exhaustion or drink or both, he was left with these niggling thoughts at the back of his head, trying to find answers that would never come.

Why didn’t you let me go with you?

       He let her down, got her fucking killed and he wasn’t even the one that put a sword through the fucker that killed her.

       Johnny frowned and stepped forward, placing the red, yellow and pink roses on her grave before taking the withered ones away. He stood there, clutching the brittle brown stems in his hands and stared at Aisha’s headstone, the rain beating down on him was oddly comforting, the silence even more so. He was glad he came alone for these, sometimes he swore blind he felt a hand on his shoulder, sometimes he’d even hear her laugh one more time. Sometimes the chaos in his mind would quiet for just a little while and he’d know a brief peace.

       He was here now, but he wasn’t then, and he paid for his mistakes in the worst, most horrifying way he could have, like God himself reached down and took her to Heaven because Johnny didn’t appreciate what he had on this Earth until it was too late.

       No matter where he would go, no matter what happened between now and the day he died, he would always be drawn back here, this was his penance, and one he was happy to pay until he saw her face again, and then he would ask that burning question.

Why didn’t you let me go with you?

#saints row #rowvember 2020 #Johnny Gat

[papa-nikki-writes]

Rowvember day 5-Date

The day or month of the year as specified by a number

A romantic or social engagement

A set day in time

Summary: TW for blood, a bit of gore past the three asterisks, goes into the showdown with Maero.

Words:4,198

Purgatory was jumping tonight.

       There was a smile on the face of every Saint in sight and it warmed Shea’s cold black heart, the end of this gang war had been in sight for a while with no payoff, and everybody was restless and had energy to expend. So she couldn’t blame them for wanting to celebrate, or deny that the euphoria of her little family was infectious. She sipped her drink then set it down in front of her as she pulled this months expense reports towards her, trying to ignore the pounding beat making its home in her head as she tried to read the words on the page.

          Once upon a time she would have been in the middle of them all, showing everyone how it was done, pulling a companion for the night, whatever her heart desired, but things had changed. Didn’t stop her heart sinking as she looked over the bodies moving here and there, drinking and laughing. She could almost see her younger self cutting a path straight to the stripper pole and the memories made her lips twist into a smile.

         As it were, it was Shaundi and a couple of other girls that occupied it now, trying to see who could climb to the top and stay there, but they were very drunk, and they hadn’t built up their core muscles enough, something that Shea could get the gang to work on next time she took a martial arts class. The girls Shaundi was with were new, Shea could still see the bruises of their canonisation shining on their cheeks, and she made a mental note to try and meet them. The gang had exploded in numbers recently, Shea was finding it hard to keep up with all the newbies.

        She wondered if Julius faced these kinds of struggles, he had always been there, but aloof, like a father guiding his children and she had been trying to emulate him, but it didn’t feel quite right. It didn’t feel awful per say, she felt like she was doing a competent enough job at pretending, but she wanted to be in the middle of everything, she wanted to be more hands on, it was just in her nature.

         She took another sip and tried to locate her other lieutenants, Pierce was up near the pool table that was collecting quite a few empty glasses around its rim, he was lining up a shot, the same look of concentration he had in a firefight, it was quite endearing seeing how seriously he was taking the game, even though there were no shortage of admirers wanting to get at him.

        Speaking of admirers, she had to save her second in command before, but as she looked, she noticed he wasn’t on the dancefloor, or on the purple couches framing the wall, there was a pretty young lady staring at her intently though, and it set her on edge. People rarely looked her in the eye here, save for her lieutenants and the veterans like Rocco and Leah. Oh and Danilo, but he’d been toe to toe against her.

         Shea frowned and picked up her drink before lowering her eyes back down to the reports, trying to shake off the adrenaline burst. Her body was way too accustomed to jumping into fights at a moments notice, and any kind of emotion had been setting it off. Drinking numbed it though, as it always did, and so she lifted her glass to her mouth.

          There was a yell and someone grabbed her by her shoulders, and Shea swore to fucking God her heart stopped for a second, her whole body jolted and her drink went everywhere. And that was it. She was on her feet and whirled round to face the absolute wanker that was Johnny Gat, who immediately held his hands up as he laughed, apparently not quite believing what was probably a goldmine of a reaction from her.

         Shea swallowed back the string of expletives that queued up to fall out of her mouth, before raising her hands to shake off what had been a Pina Colada.

“You-” she began, fixing Johnny with a glare, “-are an absolute fucking cunt.”

“I-I’m sorry,” he replied between sniggers, “I didn’t know-”

“-that you’re a dickhead?” she offered the answer, turning back and picking up the sodden remains of the reports, watching pina colada drip onto the table before letting it drop, where it made a nice little slapping sound as it flopped back down. She sighed and placed her hands on her hips before turning back to Johnny, then stepped forward and lifted the sunglasses up, saw his pupils constricted as shit and placed them back over his eyes.

“You’re pissed.” she noted, and he smiled before his hands found her shoulders again, and he made her sit down at a clean table before gesturing to the bartender.

“The real question is why ain't you?” he said, sliding into the chair opposite her, leaning forwards, and she smiled and mimicked the action.

“Because I'm the Boss.” she replied, and he snorted.

“Fuck off Shea.” he laughed.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I remember you climbing up the church rafters at every fuckin’ party back in the day.”

“Yeah but I wasn’t Boss then,” she pointed out, thanking the bartender for her drink before apologising for the mess on her previous table.

“Nothin’ in job description says you have to become a nun.” he replied with a grin, and she grinned too, she couldn’t help it.

“Watch.” she said with the air of a challenge, getting to her feet and striding right into the middle of a group of Saints and civilians on the dancefloor, they parted like the red sea, and Shea did a twirl in the space that was created before she strode back, turning back to see them reoccupy it, staring at her curiously. She then threw Johnny a pointed look.

“Shit, it’s like magnets, but opposite.” he chuckled.

“See?”

“You’re tellin’ me nobody tries it on with you?”

“You’re pissed, not blind right?” she quipped, before remembering that his glasses, sun or otherwise were prescription.

“Julius had people from time to time.”Johnny said with a frown, and Shea cringed at the mental image.

“Julius wasn’t me. Do I really need to show you again?” she asked, and he leaned back, staring at nothing in particular as though she’d just blown his mind, she watched him for a few moments before taking a sip of her drink, “anyway, where’ve you been? Getting it in upstairs?”

She had turned the tables on him now, as his gaze flicked to her.

“No.” he said quickly, but the tone in his voice suggested more to the story, Shea cast a glance at the girl on the couch across the room, she had a drink now, was pulling the hem of her dress down and purposefully not looking at Shea; and it clicked. She was one of the girls she’d ‘saved’ Johnny from before, and it wasn’t Shea she had been staring at at all, and now Johnny wasn’t looking at her either.

“What’s stopping you?” she asked gently, watching him fiddle with the pink umbrella in his drink.

“Well it’s too soon right?” he replied, an edge to his voice. He was waiting for her to answer, she could see it.

“Only you can make that call.” she shook her head, keeping her own tone apologetic. It was true however, she couldn’t make that call for him, though she was certain that E’esh never expected Johnny to be alone forever after she died, never mind never having sex again. Though on the other hand, Shea was certain that If they all had their way, she’d still be alive and they wouldn’t even be having this conversation, and Shea clucked her tongue before setting her drink down. She leaned forwards, catching his attention, “I’m not going to judge you, if that’s what you’re really asking.”

“But I don’t know if I could do all that again.” he said before he could stop himself, and he could blame the drink for those words slipping out, would probably do exactly that come morning.

“Feelings and all that shit you’ve always had a problem with anyway, nobody’s asking you to marry the girl, chances are, she knows what’s up,” she said before a grin slid across her face, “unless I'm completely misreading the situation and the problem lies with your physicality.” she added with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows, and he chuckled.

“Though it’s been so long I’m surprised it hasn’t fallen off.” he said, leaning back and running a hand through his hair, and Shea picked up his drink and held it out for him,

“Only one way to find out if your dick game’s gone shitty Tiger.” she replied, and Johnny looked her square in the eye before taking the drink from her hand, and she let it fall to the table as she kept grinning. He downed it in one before getting to his feet, his eyes not once leaving hers.

“Never call me that again.” he said, before setting the glass down with a clank and turning on his heel. Shea downed hers too, grimacing at the bitterness of it as she saw him head to the girl on the couch, watching over the exchange for a little bit with a sad smile.

         Christ she missed ‘Eesh, and she knew Johnny would even more than her, she missed her singing around the house when Shea was over visiting, she missed getting high with her while Johnny prowled their suburb for any Ronin getting too close to the house. She missed movie night when she, Carlos, Pierce and Shaundi would pile into the house and watch shitty action movies.

          She knew from the off they would never be the same again, but slowly a new normal was slowly beginning to form, Johnny was starting to laugh a bit more now, not as much as before, but it was there. Shea sighed and dragged her hand over her face, she was tired, and confident that Johnny was doing fine on his own, she got to her feet and left Purgatory, binning the ruined reports as she went, stepping out into the cool night air and she shivered, missing the months of Stilwater’s heatwave, even if it played havoc with her skin graphs.

            The Sons of Samedi were gone, for the most part, so  there was only The Ronin, Brotherhood and Ultor to worry about. Only, she thought with a chuckle, they had come so far and they still had a long ways to go. They still had yet to find Maero, but after the beatdown that he and Shea had given eachother the last time they met she wasn’t really surprised that he continued to be elusive.

           The Ronin had retreated to lick their wounds after they had been massacred at Purgatory a few months back, but Akuji sr also was proving difficult to find. Shea had a feeling that the next time she saw those two that it would be the last, one way or another. One last hail Mary against the Saints, who were only getting stronger by the day.

           Her phone rang, and she pulled it from her bra and checked the caller ID, seeing a number she didn’t recognise she frowned and put it to her ear. She had expected it to be Pierce, slurring that he’d lost his phone somewhere and to ‘call him if some dirt needs doin’’, or Johnny on his companion’s phone letting her know that he’ll be out all night and to not wait up. Instead, it was a voice that triggered adrenaline to surge into her bloodstream, the liquid in her veins burning hot once more.

“Get your ass to the Ultor Dome, this ends now.”

***

A change of clothes and a stock up of weapons later and Shea was speeding up the freeway to Sunsinger, her heart hammering in her chest. Maero had been watching them, she was sure, watching and waiting for the time when her Saints would be the most incapacitated. She shouldn’t be going alone, she knew she shouldn’t, but the image of Carlos broken, and beaten and nearly fucking flayed alive forced it’s way into her mind and it was all she could think about. Carlos was her boy, and he was not supposed to have been targeted, this was supposed to just be between her and Maero, mano el mano, but he fucking took Carlos, and in return she swore she’d take everything from him. She now just needed his life. She hadn’t known when this day would come, just knew it was marked in her calender regardless.

It was time to end this.

         She pulled up outside the Ultor dome and got out of her car, surveying the quiet exterior. Maero was inside, she could hear muffled metal music blasting within. She reached inside her car and strapped the grenades she brought to her chest, picked up her T3K Urban, and strode inside. She’d should have brought back up, the thought hitting her now, but it was too late. She had left messages on each of her lieutenants phones, but in all honesty she didn’t think they would check them until morning.

          It was pitch black out in the arena, and as she walked towards it, her steel toe boots thunking against the tiled floor, she saw nobody else inside, which was odd. The tile soon changed to gravel, and the mechanised shutters closed behind her, she found herself blinded with a white light and she held up an arm to shield her eyes from the onslaught.

“I didn’t think you’d show.”

Man she could hear the smile in his voice, her eyes adjusted, and she looked around warily, expecting an ambush. Where was he?

“I didn’t think you’d have the balls to come alone.” she quipped back, and Maero sniggered.

“I never said I’d be alone.”

          Engines revved, and Shea turned and stared into the headlights of a brotherhood truck, but Maero wasn’t in this one. She had no chance to dwell however, as another revved behind her, the lights glaring on, she turned, then there was another, and another, and another. Then finally, the last one, Maero’s monster truck, gigantic. Shea had to stare up at it as engines continued to rev around her. She was fucked.

Fan-frigging-tastic

        Tires squealed and two of the trucks surged forward to pin her between them, and she felt like she had nowhere to go but up, she jumped on instinct, landing on the bonnet of one and running up onto the roof as bullets were shot through the windscreen at the back of her heels as she moved, detaching the pin of a grenade as she went before she threw it in the driver’s cabin and dived off into the gravel, landing feet first and sprinting for cover.

         She didn’t quite make it though, her feet were lifted and the force of the explosion threw her into the stone bumper she had been running for. Pain shot up her spine and she fell forwards onto her stomach, cringing in agony before she felt the rumble in the gravel, and she realised that she couldn’t linger there. Gritting her teeth against the pain and the ringing in her ears, she got to her feet, aiming for the nearest truck and sending a spray of bullets into the front of it, catching the driver in the head and diving out of the way as it smashed into the bumper and began to smoke.

          Shea kept moving, ignoring her screaming muscles and dipped and dived and twisted away from the trucks hell bent on running her down. Maero was circling the arena, observing her predicament with sick smiles and hatred in his eyes, his mouth moving but she had no idea what he was saying, she couldn’t hear, and she was a little too busy to lipread.

         The truck from earlier exploded and again, Shea was thrown by the force of it into another truck, and she felt herself slide off the bonnet onto the floor as pain lit up her nerve endings, she couldn’t move, had she landed wrong on her spine? Was she paralysed?

         Hands weaved into the front of the grenade belt she wore, and one of the remaining Brotherhood smashed his forehead into her nose, and stars burst in front of her eyes as her back hit gravel again. Then a boot found her ribs and stole her breath.

         She rolled away and her hand spasmed as it dug into the gravel, but her heart soared at the pain, she hadn’t been paralysed after all, and she proved it to herself by dashing the gravel into The Brotherhoods eyes, she then used that opportunity to tackle one, using her arms to snap his neck before her eyes fell on another that had been advancing on her, and he faltered before pressing onwards, his hands finding that grenade belt for purchase.

         Her fingers moved deftly, pulling a pin and detaching herself from the belt, rolling away as more of the Brotherhood came to join him, and she managed to drag herself behind cover as the belt and all the grenades exploded, the rumble felt underneath her, debris cascading down from the ceiling, making her cough from the dust swirling through the air.

            She grimaced as she flexed her hand, or tried to, there wasn’t a lot of movement to it as it shook and seized with pain, the intensity bringing tears to her eyes, she had no time to cry however, as she looked up and saw Maero’s monster truck heading right for her, she thought about running for a split second, but where could she run? She was locked in here. Knowing that this was it, she retrieved a gun from a flesh pile, and charged onwards. The only way out was through Maero after all.

          She timed it, dipping low at the last moment so the truck passed over her, the machinery and parts clanking over her made her nervous but she couldn’t let fear take over, not here. She scurried to her feet and leapt onto the back before he could turn around and try and run her down again, and he turned in his seat and took aim with his pistol. Sucking in a breath to combat the pain, she threw aside her gun (she needed both arms for this)and heaved herself up onto the roof just as a bullet whistled past her leg. He turned sharply, trying to dislodge her and she rolled, yelling out as her left hand found purchase on the handle next to the drivers seat. Her body collided painfully with the side of the door.

         Turning her pain outwards, she opened the door and dived into the cabin with Maero, and she felt his hand seize her head and smash it against the dashboard, again, stars popped in front of her eyes and she twisted, using her feet to push his face away as she measured up where his kidneys were to repeatedly force her elbow into them. He fired blindly with the gun, not being able to see where she was, one caught her in the shoulder. She fought on however, lifting one foot off his face to pin the gun by his head as she continued to elbow every bit of him she could.

       It wasn’t a fight of finesse, of skill, it was just a fight, at one point Mearo’s hands found her neck and he squeezed as she punched, clawed and bit chunks out of him. She did not panic, she was just enraged, yelling choked screams as he fell off the seats and pinned her to the floor of the cabin under him, hatred twisting every inched of his gnarled face as he upped the pressure and cut off her breathing completely, and she felt herself turning red as she gasped for air and kicked under him.

        This was beyond her realms of comfort now, and in a last ditch attempt, she gripped the sides of his head and attempted to push her thumbs into his eyes, he jerked away from her, and squeezed harder, and she rapidly felt her strength leaving her before an almighty crunch was heard and the truck jerked, throwing Maero off her as they tumbled around the cabin before her back slammed hard into something metal, then her head, and it was lights out.

         When her eyes next opened, all she could see were swirls of colour, and her blood rushed in her ears like she’d pressed them to Conch shells, offset nicely by the continuous ringing still present. She blinked, and the world focused, but span, and she moved to get up, screaming as pain knifed through her, she sat up gingerly, blinking to dispel the doubles she was seeing of everything.

Maero! The memory came flooding back, where was he?

         Looking down, she saw Maero’s pistol and reached for it, closing her fingers around the cool metal before she punched open one of the doors and scrambled out of the twisted wreck that had been the monster truck. The movement triggered something and pain seized her body, she rolled, hitting the gravel and smelling gasoline.

          Heaving to her feet once more, staggering sideways, she made her way to the front of the truck, looking for Maero, found him lying under the cabin on the other side, pinned, hell, she might even have used him to crawl out of the wreckage, now she thought about it.

Was he dead?

He better fucking not be. His life was hers.

         She dragged herself over to him, checking the ammo in the pistol as she glowered at Maero’s unmoving body, using her foot, she turned his torso, pushing his shoulder to the gravel and was surprised when his eyes eased open, unfocused at first, until he recognised the gun and the person holding it, and rage burned the confusion from his face.

“Any last words?” she asked. He raised his hand, fingers digging into her calf.

“Go to hell.” he snarled. She squeezed the trigger and Maero’s face became a mass of blood, bone and brains sinking into the gravel. She took her leg back, and walked away, a great exhaustion rushing over her.

        And so it was over. The great blood feud between her and Maero, she’d avenged Carlos good and truly, and she should have been elated, but that great hole remained inside her that Carlos’ death had made, and she found herself at a loss for what to do now. She was alive, beaten, but she would recover, but Carlos wasn’t alive, he wouldn’t ever recover. She’d hoped killing Maero would ease the empty feeling a little, but it hadn’t and now she was just drained.

       At that thought, her legs buckled just short of the shutter, her knees hitting the ground. The adrenaline was leaving her, and the pain from her wounds and her aches was intensifying. She just wanted to sleep, but she wasn’t safe here yet. More of the Brotherhood’s remnants could be on their way and she wasn’t pleased at the idea that she’d survive that fight with only to be taken out by a lackey straight afterwards.

          The shutters roared into life, and her heart leapt in her throat, again, she pushed her body past her limits, again she stood ready to fight. Only to almost break down in tears when the light abated and her lieutenants and soldiers rushed in. They were shouting, but she couldn’t hear what, and she just about collapsed into Johnny’s arms as she let her legs buckle again. She fisted her hands into his shirt, and she felt his arm tense, keeping her upright and standing to keep up appearances for the frontliners, and she felt the rumble of his voice as he ordered some of the boys and girls around to check for any Brotherhood survivors.

“Gonna make sure they know you walked outta here.” she could just make out his words, and yes, her getting out on her own two feet definitely made for a better story than dragging yourself out in pieces. But she would not have been able to walk at all without his strength making this possible.

        It soon became apparent that walking was making it worse and her knees buckled again, and again Johnny kept her up, he kept talking, she could just make out the undertone of his voice past all the whooshing in her ears but she hadn’t a clue what he was saying.

       Must have been ‘where’s your fuckin’ car keys’ as she felt him search the pockets of her jeans until he found them and unlocked the car, then he lifted her into the passenger seat, taking care not to smack her head on the frame as he did, then the seatbelt was pulled across her and he was gone until he got in the driver’s seat a few moments after.

       She wanted to talk to him, and tried to, but her brain wasn’t playing ball, she just wanted to sleep and as soon as he began driving she passed out. The last thing she saw was Johnny’s face, his jaw set, expression sombre, but she knew that in his presence that she was finally, finally safe.

#rowvember 2020 #Saints Row #boss shea #purple shamrock #rowvember

[papa-nikki-writes]

Rowvember Day 4-Confusion

Alternate title: Requiem, this is essentially the ’Rest in peace’ mission. Yep, that one, strap in folks.

A situation of panic or disorder

A situation of uncertainty, intended or required

         Shea frowned and checked herself over in the mirror, her hand reaching for the bottle of vodka on the chest of drawers instinctively, her fingers closed around it and she drank deep, the Irishwoman had never been short on courage before but today she had found herself digging deep down inside to drag the last reserves out. This had been on her, she was the leader; everything was always on her-she had made peace with that when she became the head of the Saints, even if she didn't know what it would mean nine months ago.

Nine months, she scoffed, feels like freakin' years.

      So much had happened and so much had gone so horribly wrong. But not today, things weren't allowed to be wrong today, and so she double checked herself in the mirror, fluffed the purple waves cascading down her back, and put on her war face, swigging the last of her vodka as she strode out the door, smoothing her black dress against her purple clad legs as she half bounced downstairs to be amongst her soldiers. The ones coming to pay respects were either all in black or accented the black clothing with purple, some were staying behind considering a number of reasons, space and logic being two of them; it wasn't a good idea for the Saints, or indeed any gang to all pile in one place.

“Boss, she's here.” Pierce called as he and Shaundi made their way towards her and Shea nodded, inside, butterflies fluttered in her stomach but she retained control, blowing out a breath to calm herself. It worked; until Shea's laid her eyes on the purple tie thrown casually over Pierces shoulder, his shirt dishevelled.

“Pierce, you're not going out like that.” she said, and Pierce looked down at himself.

“Why?”

“Your tie.”

“What about it?”

“Didn't your mama teach you how to tie a tie properly?!”

It came out harsher than she'd meant it. Especially since she knew she'd said the wrong thing when she saw how Pierce's face fell. Not many of the Saints came from nice backgrounds, herself included, but she had a feeling her hell had been different to Pierce's.

“No...she uh- she didn't.” he replied awkwardly, and Shea bit her lip; feeling like the worst person in the world, her arms dropped to her sides and she walked over to him, expression softening.

“C'mere.” she said gently, she laid her hands on his shoulders and guided him to stand squarely in front of her, lifting his collar and threading the tie through. “What you do, is go across the river-” she said, flicking one of the sides over the other, “under the bridge,” she placed it under the other side, “and through the cave.” she said, threading it under the loop and pulling the knot of the newly made tie up to his neck with a smile and a gentle pat on the chest. “There, done.”

“Thanks Boss?”

“Anytime.” she said, and she didn't know whether Pierce was surprised by her smile, or by how gentle she had been when teaching him, maybe both. Smiling and being gentle weren't part of Shea's repertoire lately, so it was nice to know she was still capable of it.

“Where's Gat, it's almost time.” Shaundi asked, suddenly looking around, and Shea turned to scan the area too, looking for her best friend. When he did sleep Johnny had taken to one of the upstairs rooms of Purgatory (he couldn't face up to the house anymore and who could blame him?) so Shea assumed he'd be about; however a thorough analysis of the area told her that he wasn't. “He won't wanna miss this.” Shaundi added.

“Alright, you two get in the car, leave Gat to me.” she said and they nodded and hurried off while Shea jogged upstairs to the room Johnny had been hibernating in for the last three weeks since he escaped from the hospital. She stopped at the door, attempting to turn the handle, but Johnny had obviously locked it, with a sigh she pulled a hairgrip from her hair and began to straighten it out. “Yo man, it's me,” she called through the lilac painted wood, deciding to give him a chance to let her in before she picked the lock.

No answer.

“Open the door?” Again, no answer, she sighed, “Mate, you know if you don't let me in I'll find a way to get in anyway. How I do that is up to you.” she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, standing with her head bowed and hands on her hips, waiting for signs of movement from within. There was none, and annoyance surged. “Fine.” she said, and bent down to pick the lock, they had no time for this, Aisha was home and waiting to be laid to rest.

       A few seconds and the door clicked, and she opened the door, letting it swing open to reveal Johnny, and she felt her annoyance drain out of her. He was sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over and staring intently at the thing in his hands. As soon as she saw it she knew what it was, the photo Shea had taken of the three of them in what seemed a lifetime ago.

       Without a word Shea walked over to him, the air around her and within her felt heavy, and her heart ached for him. She knelt down on the floor in front of where he sat, peering into his face and reaching over to lay her hand tentatively on his. He didn't look at her, but he sighed.

“If I go out there, see that coffin, it'll be too real.”

“I hear that.” Shea said gently, realising that he hadn't shaved since yesterday when she left him.

“I mean I know it don't help, but...” he shrugged, at a loss for what to say, and Shea couldn't find the words either.

“I'm sorry.” her voice was almost a whisper, and she saw him take a deep breath again before exhaling slowly, he finally turned to look at her, confusion pulling his eyebrows down.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked and Shea swallowed the lump in her throat as she wondered how much she could tell him, she was sorry Aisha died, she was sorry he had to deal with this, she was sorry for feeling annoyed with him when he obviously had enough to deal with, she was sorry he hadn't put his faith in someone better and she was sorry she kept getting people she loved hurt. Shea opened and closed her mouth a few times before she settled for keeping quiet, she didn't want to offload her burdens on him. Not today.

“This shouldn't have-.” she replied, losing his gaze as her voice cracked and her eyes burned, he nodded solemnly, apparently knowing what she was going to say anyway.

“Yeah.” It was a short 'yeah', and one that cut her down to the bone with how quiet it was, she was used to the cocky little shit with the smirk and more swagger than if Bruce Lee and James Dean had a love child. He had been her mentor, the guy that had taught her to shoot straight and she couldn't help but feel that if roles were reversed, and Shea was going through the worst days of her life, he would know what to say, he would know what to do, and Shea just felt utterly lost.

         She felt a tear break free of her waterline and roll off her cheek and in her head it sounded like it crashed onto the back of her hand, and then the rest of her stoicism crumbled and she rushed upwards and pulled him into a hug, trying to turn all the nervous energy from what she wanted to say into helpful action. She had no idea if it translated well but he hugged her back regardless, and she used the opportunity to wipe her tears away.

“Whenever you're ready.” she whispered, and she felt him nod somewhere amongst her hair before patting her awkwardly on the back in an attempt at 'normal'.

“Get outta here, go on, gonna get people talkin'.” he chuckled as they pulled away, but even that sounded hollow. He stood up, placing the photo on the bed as he did so and disappeared into the en suite bathroom, where running water could be heard.

       Shea stood too, picking up the cool metal frame in one hand and tracing across the photo with the fingers of the other, hovering over the smiles and the bright eyes and the cheeks that age and stress hadn't melted away yet. Their stupid happy babyfaces didn't have a clue what was in store for them. She jabbed the glass above her past self vindictively, It's your fault, she seethed. It was her causing all the destruction and the God above took her friends? The venomous prick. If these last few months were penance for her sins, he was targeting the wrong fucking people.

“Did you just...poke yourself in the eye?”

        Shea jumped and quickly put the photo down before straightening up with her hands behind her back,

“Nope.” she lied quickly, a freshly shaven Johnny raised an eyebrow before walking back into the bathroom, patting his face down with a towel. She waited until he couldn't see her, then checked over herself in the mirror, obsessively flattening the baby hairs on top of her head, pulling at the creases in her dress, at her tights, at her face, everywhere she could reach. This wasn't good enough, she had to be perfect. Why wouldn't her hair stay down? Why did the creases come back?

“Just because me and daddy fight, it doesn't mean that you can go out looking scruffy; appearance is everything Shea, we can fool the world if we just look perfect.”

          Her mother was right, how could anyone believe she was OK if she looked like this? She started pulling at her hair, feeling the urge to pull it out until a larger hand covered the one at her head, gentle, but enough to halt her movements.

“Will you stop that?! You look fine.” Johnny snapped, and her eyes met his in the mirror, she felt her cheeks burn and she relaxed her hand and let it drop to her side.

“I just want everything to go right, that's all.”

         Without a word, Johnny pressed a kiss to the top of her head and, keeping his hand in place, guided her out of the room, pushing her ahead of him to cut a path through the Saints. They always parted like the red sea when faced with her, she knew he knew that. He drew amusement from it most days but today it was a necessity to get from the room to the lift with as few people to talk to them as was possible.

         They watched them pass through like mannequins, silent and unmoving, and Shea found it a little creepy; usually there were people drinking and strippers and noise, but there was just...nothing. It was unnatural and made her want to hurry back to her room for that bottle of vodka she'd left.

        Maybe it was because luck had not been on their side recently, creating a more subdued atmosphere Shea had forgotten could exist with the Saints, between Carlos and Aisha dying, Johnny in an induced coma while the doctors worked on him, and Shaundi being kidnapped, it was really no surprise. Shea was not Julius, and that was painfully obvious with how many of her nearest and dearest were getting hurt, even the victories Shea had been handed in the last few weeks or so, even they tasted like ash in her mouth. There was a lot yet to do before the city was theirs again and the road was way longer than she had thought it'd be.

         The lift bell sounded and the doors slid open to reveal the sleek black hearse carrying Eesh's coffin, adorned by muticoloured roses, red, white and yellow, Shea's blood ran cold and she made the sign of the cross upon her person without thinking, then catching herself after the fact, glared at her traitorous hand before opening the car's back doors and sliding into the leather backseat. Johnny had already gotten in, which caught her by surprise since she had no idea he had moved past her. His head rested on his hand as he gazed lazily at the tinted outside.

“I guess there are some things you didn't leave back on Leprecaun island huh?” he said, and she fought and won against the urge to shift nervously in her seat.

“I guess so.” she replied, feigning a cheery tone, and there was something in that that Johnny found mildly amusing, possibly his nickname of 'Leprecaun Island' for her homeland.

“Still believe in an afterlife?” he asked quietly, and Shea felt herself burn hot with the awkwardness brought on by his question.

“Y-yeah of course.” she said, mentally kicking herself for the stammer at the beginning, he'd have picked up on that. “I mean, she's in a better place-definitely.”she added hurriedly, and his brow furrowed for a few moments before he gave a single nod of his head, and Shea turned to look out of the window at Stilwater outside. It was beginning to rain now, but whether it would finally dispel the sweltering humidity in the air she had no clue, she watched Stilwater's citizens pre-emptively rush for cover as the light rain could turn monsoon-like at a moment's notice, and had done earlier in the week.

         Mourningwoods Cemetery loomed into view and the horrible feeling Shea felt weighing on her shoulders and forcing her heart in her throat intensified, when Johnny suddenly got out of the car Shea was pretty convinced it was something to do with her despite been given no evidence towards that thought. Fighting the urge to be sick and wondering if she was cracking up she opened the door and stepped out, waving away a Saint that offered to hold an umbrella over her head.

        The funeral itself was a blur, one moment Shea was shoulder to shoulder with Johnny bearing the coffin with Aisha's sister just behind, and the next she was staring at his back, scared that if she took her eyes off him, he wouldn't be there anymore.

        She had taken some dirt from the graveside as Aisha was lowered gently down, and waited for it to stop before throwing the handful of dirt onto the white coffin. Ashes to ashes, return to the earth from whence you came and all that jazz, she embellished on the verses she'd learned in her youth and laid a hand on Johnny's shoulder as she passed him. That's when she heard it.

      Engines. Bike engines specifically, and the hand gripped firmer as she realised with a growing rage what it was. The Ronin were coming here. Now. And Shea had no weapons; most of the Saints present had no weapons on them. Not a lot of them took guns because it was a fucking funeral.

“Johnny-” Shea said, her head whipping round. And she felt the muscles in his arm tighten as he clenched his fists.

“I know...” he growled, and stepped forward to throw flowers into the grave, stepping back just as the Ronin approached. His eyes fixed on her coffin but the fury he was feeling was almost palpable, coming off of him in some kind of wave.

          What Shea gathered was Shogo Akuji was leading them, she had only seen the twenty something from pictures beforehand, and he seemed smaller in person; but there was a look in his eyes that stopped her from laughing at him. He might look like a bitch of a kid, but he was ruthless, she could see it.

She glanced at Pierce and Shaundi, saw their faces pale and worried.

“You two have humiliated my family for the last time!” Shogo snarled, pointing at her and Johnny, and Shea stepped forward so she was level with Johnny and in front of Shaundi and Pierce, hoping her face was showing exactly what she was feeling inside.

“Leave little boy.” Johnny said calmly, staring at Aisha's coffin and Shea was impressed; she would not have that level of discipline over her voice if she spoke.

“Look at me when I'm talking to you!” he yelled back at him, and the laugh Shea had held back bubbled out of her throat. She was in shock, one, that he was attacking them at a funeral, and two, how fucking entitled this kid sounded. This was going to go south, she could feel it in her bones as sure as the rain had soaked her through to them, as her hair dripped into her face. She gestured behind her back for the Saints to get ready to retreat, hoping they were paying attention.

“Fuck off Akuji.” came Johnny's reply, and Shea had to agree. “I'm not killin' anyone at Eesh's funeral. Tonight....tomorrow, you name a time and I'll gladly fuck you up; but not now.”

“How noble.” Shogo smirked, and took his sub machine gun off of safety, and other Ronin copied him. “Nobility is sorely overrated.” he said and opened fire on them.

        Shea and Johnny had hit the nearest cover instinctively, but she had no idea about the rest of the Saints. She looked back and saw most had done the same, where others stared at her glassy eyed and lifeless, and her heart dropped through her stomach.

Killed in a fucking graveyard?

          Her ears rang and her eyes scrunched up at the deafening sounds of the bullets hitting the tombstones, shards flying off here and there. All around, purple clad bodies fell along with civilians and Shea knew that they had to go or they'd all be massacred.

“Saints! To the cars! We are fucking leaving!” Shea screamed, and Johnny's head whipped round to glare at her.

“What?!”

“We gotta go.” Shea said firmly, and Johnny shook his head.

“Nah, I aint leavin', I ain't lettin' this slide.” he snarled and made to run out from cover, and Shea seized the back of his suit and hauled him back.

“Are you fucking kidding me?! Johnny, our people are dying, look around!” she pleaded, pushing her hair out of her eyes so she could look into Johnny's. He glanced around, looking shocked for a moment before his head bowed. “Johnny.” Shea said, turning his head to face her, “We stay here, we die.”

“Then you fuck off.” he spat.

“Er, excuse you!” Shea shot back, “the fuck you think you’re talking to?!”

“You said it yourself, you stay here, you die.” he shrugged, and she rolled her eyes.

“I’m not your fucking enemy so can you stop fucking fighting me please?”

“Boss!” Pierce yelled out to Shea, “Boss! We can't move, it's too hot!”

“Get your crew outta here.” Johnny growled before he got to his feet, and Shea made a swipe for him again but missed, and the ensuing gunfire had her pulling her hand back as though she had just been scalded.

“God damn it Johnny!” she screamed, hoping he heard her over the guns.

          Shea closed her eyes and let her head drop back against the stone with a thunk, she heard footsteps squelching towards her in the mud and she knew there was only one thing for it; she couldn't wait for them to reach her cover and pick the remaining Saints off one by one. If she was going to die in a fucking graveyard, she was going to die fighting. She was going to die protecting her family. She was going to die dragging Johnny’s fucking arse out of the proverbial fire.

           As the Ronin were upon them, Shea struck out with her leg, catching the Ronin in the face and sending him crashing down under her boot. Combat was heard behind her, heard Johnny's scuffle with his Ronin before a shot rang out. And for a heartstopping second she thought he'd been shot, she snapped the Ronin's neck and whirled round with a new gun in hand, ready to kill. But only saw Johnny tearing off into the middle of the Ronin intent on killing him.

“Just let me bury her!”

“Johnny!” she screamed, attempting to follow, but the hail of bullets sent her way forced her back behind cover. “Johnny!” she bellowed, inhaling stone chipping and she coughed great hacking coughs. “Johnny god damn it!” she seethed, punching the stone behind her. Saw the remaining Saints staring blankly at her. “Go! Grab anyone alive and go.” she told them, “Fucking go!”

“This is suicide!” Shaundi's voice scolded, as Shea peeked out from the tombstone to cover Johnny's back and the other Saints' escape, shooting down some of the more troublesome of the Ronin.

“Just go!” she screamed again as bullets forced her to take cover once more, saw Pierce shaking his head.

“No Boss, nobody gets left behind!” he yelled back, and Shea frowned and poked her head out to shoot a couple more, enough so the group could retreat safely; Johnny had drawn their attention, it was both reckless and effective, but something about the action didn't sit well with her, sent chills down her spine. If she left him now, he'd get himself killed for sure. He wanted Akuji dead, she knew and she understood, but so much was happening at once and there were too many people to worry about here, too many variables and it made her head spin.

“Pierce! Shaundi! Please!” she pleaded with a lieutenant of hers for the second time that night, and she didn't want to make a habit of it, but this was important. If she and Johnny fell today she had to be sure the Saints would continue. Nine months ago she wouldn't have trusted them to lead the group, and in some ways she was still unsure, but she was confident that they would at least be avenged by those left.

“You heard the Boss!” Pierce finally bellowed, “Round up survivors, civilian or Saint and head to the cars! We're outta here!”

“Boss, for the record, we don't like this!” Shaundi added, and Shea dipped back to reload, looking up at her as she did so.

“Noted.” she replied, popping the clip into place and cocking the gun. She caught Shaundi's gaze and nodded, ducking out from cover, this time to gain ground and force the yellow clad bastards back, simultaneously covering escapes while she was at it. The screech of several tires speeding away from danger music to her ears as she fired lead into the chests and heads of any Ronin leaving themselves open.

         The combined efforts of she and Johnny were finally making a dent in the Ronin ranks, their onslaught was forcing them backwards, and somewhere across the graves, Shogo Akuji's face paled with shock.

He promptly turned tail and ran.

“He's heading to the caretakers house!” Johnny snarled, and both of them forced on an extra burst of speed as they sprinted towards the house with bullets whizzing past their heads. She glanced at Johnny, saw him expertly pulling off headshots as usual and smiled, when it came to killing and guns, that man was a fucking artist; he just wasn't watching his back, she frowned as she shot down the woman aiming for him. He turned, his face shocked, and she nodded and smirked, feeling cocky. He grinned and nodded back before he turned his attention to another group of Ronin, and Shea turned hers to another.

“Hey Gat!” she heard someone bellow, and she stepped back from kicking a Ronin in the kidney before she searched for the source, “I heard her head was being sold on Tbay, Did you buy it back? How much did it go for?”

        It was a scrawny little Ronin cunt across the graveyard, smirking as Johnny stalked towards him, he danced away, and it was then, from her angle that she realised what they were doing. They were trying to lead him into a trap, They were trying to isolate him from her completely.

         Rain beat down on her face as she raised her gun and fired two shots into the ground ahead of where Johnny was moving, saw him skid to a halt and look over at her in confusion before she aimed across at the few Ronin hidden from Johnny’s view, taking them out and preventing their plan from happening.

       Then a white light burst in front of her eyes and when she came to she was on all fours, looking at the back of her bloody hand, her fingers digging into the soft mud as the world span, her stomach lurching horribly. She thought she heard Johnny yell.

        There was a pain in her ribs and she rolled, her breath stolen from her as she sprawled onto her back, and a Ronin came into view, pointing the barrel of his gun at her face, and the thought briefly floated across her mind that this was it. This was how she’d die.

         But then the Ronin’s head shattered into blood, and bone and spray, and she felt Johnny seize the front of her dress and drag her behind cover, before moving into her line of vision as he tapped the side of her cheek.

“It’s alright Shea, you’re good, you’re good yeah?” he asked quickly, voice shaking, and she raised her hand to the one tapping her cheek and gently lowered his hand as she raised hers to the back of her head.

“I think so?” she said, hissing when her fingers came away bloody, “What a fucking wanker.”

           That's when she saw a convoy of yellow sports cars come careening round the corner; Ronin reinforcements and she felt the colour drain out of her face, Johnny saw it and whirled round to identify the cause, swearing loudly when they carried on with the intent of running him down. He launched himself out of harms way with a scream and Shea lifted her gun and unleashed hell in the direction of the windscreen of the first. The bullet spray caught the driver in the head and Shea too, dived out of the cars path as it in turn smashed into the side of a Mausoleum and caught fire.

         Six more cars full of Ronin to go, she reminded herself, noticing Johnny crawling behind cover and knowing something had gone wrong, she churned up the mud under her feet as she raced towards the cover herself, vaulting over the steps of the statue to shelter.

          Johnny was grimacing and clutching at his side with hands slick with blood, sweat beading on his brow and he, like her, was breathing heavily. It was then she noticed where in his side the blood was; and uncomfortable flashbacks worried at the back of her head. She stopped to shoot at the Ronin to halt their advance before dropping back down again.

“You've opened the wound haven't you?” he didn't say anything, just nodded, and Shea reached over. “Here, let me look.” she said gently, only to yelp in surprise when he seized her wrist suddenly and painfully, making her drop the gun.

“Don't touch me.” Johnny warned.

“Johnny, I need to-”

“-I said. Don't. Touch. Me.” he said and shoved her away. Hurt, Shea picked her gun up again and fired off a couple of shots into a Ronin that forgot to make sure their head wasn't exposed, blinking rapidly as she analysed the battleground to keep tears from falling. There was a tense silence between them (contrasted with the hell around them) before it was broken.

“Sorry.” Johnny said gently, and she could feel his gaze boring into the side of her face.

“It's fine, It must be painful.” she said quickly, then froze, tense and alert as she stared in the direction of the caretakers house. The garage doors were opening and a bike engine was revving from within.

“I'm not- well I'm not just talking about this-” Johnny began, but Shea cut him off.

“Johnny.” she said in a tone that made Johnny heave himself up and curse.

“He's getting away.” he seethed, and Shea heard the desperation in his voice, felt it renew her rage, the anger bubbling in the deepest pit of her stomach.

“No he's not.” she said, pressing both guns in Johnny's bloody hands, “Get my back.” she instructed and then she was off, tearing towards the house as fast as her legs would allow, hearing heavy bodies hit the floor around her. Johnny wanted a dead Akuji, he was going to get a dead Akuji, and Shea would be there to deal with the consequences that would come afterwards. He hadn't been listening to her so now he was going to have to find out the hard way. The hate would never go away if Shogo died today, but Johnny was still living in the hope that it would, just like she had not too long ago.

         She kicked off one of her heels at a Ronin and he ducked it only for a bullet to make his head explode seconds later, and hopping slightly, she took the other one off, brandishing it like a weapon as Shogo's bike shot past her. With no time wasted, she hopped on another bike and raced off after the retreating Akuji.

       More Ronin were on her arse and she turned, her hair whipping around her face as she opened fire and they crashed into walls, and she turned back to focus on Akuji’s escape, putting pedal to the metal and gaining ground, the wind chilling her skin but inside she was a riot, and as she got close enough to Akuji’s bike she did something very stupid, and very reckless. She leapt off her bike and into Akuji, sending them both crashing to the earth as their bikes collided and swerved off the road.

        Akuji struggled, growling Japanese at her and she raised her shoe and beat him with it, the rage taking over her her until she saw red trickle from near his eyebrow, and she paused as she’d lifted her shoe in the air, looking back at him as she threw the shoe away. He was cut above his eye, his nose was bleeding, but the hatred in his eyes was real, she only hoped it was mirrored back at him. Seeing blood had made her snap out of it somewhat, and she looked at him and remembered; this wasn’t her revenge to take. She laced her fingers into his jacket and hauled him to his feet, twisting an arm behind his back as he struggled.

       As they got deeper into the cemetery and the bodies of fallen saints and Ronin came back into view, he struggled harder, and she whacked him in the back of his head when he got too rowdy.

“Where are you taking me?” he demanded, “Let me go!”

         Again with the demands. Shea rolled her eyes as Johnny pushed off from a tombstone, uncrossing his arms with a solemn expression on his face. She looked at him then, square in the eye, before she shoved Akuji forwards.

         Straight into Johnny’s waiting fist and the Ronin leader was sent crashing down into the churned up Earth, and Shea could almost see cartoon birds chirping around his head as he lay there dazed, and Johnny circled around to his head.

“Get up.” his tone was cold, devoid of anything and a shiver ran down her spine. She’d never heard his voice like that before, in all the years she known him, in all the times she’d seen his anger it had never been like this. Shea had always known he was dangerous, but she wasn’t used to it being slapped in her face like this, and she might have been disconcerted if she wasn’t angry too.

      Shogo got up, throwing a kick but Johnny dodged, catching it before putting his elbow straight through it. The crack was audible and Shogo whimpered in agony, possibly too shocked to do anything else, and Johnny then headbutted him back to the mud before circling again.

“Get up.”

        To his credit, Shogo did get up, albeit slowly, hobbling on his one good leg and threw a punch to Johnny’s jaw, and Johnny’s head barely jerked sideways before his head snapped back to him and he threw one of his own before following up with a hard knee to the face and Shogo staggered and fell, moving away from Johnny’s silhouette as he advanced before clutching a tombstone for support.

“Get up.” Johnny said again.

“Please...stop.” Shogo said, and it was a pathetic, would have been pitiful if Shea had even an ounce of sympathy for the man to begin.

“Not so fun fightin’ someone who isn’t tied to a chair, is it?”

“I didn’t kill her!” Shogo bellowed, desperate, and Shea tilted her head to one side and wrapped her arms around herself to stop the chill creeping into her bones. It didn’t work, her blood was almost frozen solid, and somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she was watching a man be beaten to death, but she just didn’t have the energy to care, at least hell would be warm when she got there.

“You ordered it.” Johnny growled, and Shea raised an eyebrow as Johnny punched Shogo straight through the tombstone Shogo had clung to, and Shogo collapsed, choking.

“I’m sorry.” he sobbed, and she saw Johnny circle him again, like a shark sensing blood.

“Well that brings her back doesn’t it.” he snapped, sarcasm that held no mirth, no emotion, before he reached down and grabbed Shogo by the neck of his jacket and dragged him through the mud. “You couldn’t even let her have a burial you fuckin’ piece of shit.” he threw Shogo down at the last syllable, at the side of a different coffin before throwing the corpse inside out of it, and Shogo’s face paled as he locked eyes with the lifeless ones of the corpse, both Shea and Shogo realising then what Johnny had planned and Shea went to go grab a shovel.

“No!” he pleaded, as Johnny picked him up and threw him like a rag doll into the coffin, “please! No!”

        The lid snapped shut and Johnny pressed the release button, triggering the mechanism to lower the coffin into the hole, and Shea walked back and threw him a shovel before moving back to Johnny’s side, her presence there hopefully saying what words couldn’t.

         She was definitely going to Hell, Shea knew this and had made peace with it a long time ago, but she took great satisfaction in knowing that Shogo would get there a lot faster than she would. As his screams grew quieter and quieter, and the last shovelful of dirt placed into the hole, she rested her chin on the handle of her shovel, watching Johnny pat the dirt down with the end of his then step back.

         Say hi to Sharp for me. She thought and spat onto the grave, letting her shovel drop and Johnny threw his down next to hers before holding an arm out. They left arm in arm but silent, the cemetery regaining that special brand of weird quiet cemeteries have.

       Tomorrow they would have to plan a lot more funerals for those fallen Saints unclaimed by family, and her heart and mind and body weighed heavy with it, but for now they had this, another gang leader down, another gang weakened. 

       Kazuo Akuji was next, then Maero whenever he decided to show his scarred face again, not much could be done when he was still off her radar, but she knew she’d meet him when that time came

       For now, maybe it was time to take stock of what they had, as tomorrow was never promised. 

#Saints Row #rowvember2020 #boss shea #purple shamrock #rowvember

[papa-nikki-writes]

Rowvember day 3-Athlete

A person who is proficient in sports and other forms of physical exercise.

Twenty seven, twenty eight, twenty nine,

       Shea counted under her breath as she lifted herself up and eased herself down, her muscles in her arm and core screamed, burned in protest, but she carried on, enjoying the feeling of the burn after five years in the dark, not that she knew much while she was out, just flashes of dreams and murmurs of voices she used to know.

      Again she lifted herself up to the bar and counted, her body shaking with the effort to keep herself suspended, but God fucking dammit she wanted her old body back, she felt herself seethe, getting heated, but it dissipated when she heard a chuckle from the dirty couch as Johnny cleaned the rifle he’d pulled from Aisha’s attic the day before.

“Tirty, tirty one, tirty two, tirty tree.” he counted ahead, mimicking her accent and she smirked despite herself.

“Shut the fuck up shitlips.” she answered as she lowered herself again, and Johnny gave a short bark of laughter.

“Hey, just tryin’ to help.” he grinned, knowing exactly what he was doing, and she laughed, her stomach hurting.

“You’re being a nuisance more like.”

“Yeah but what would you do with out me?” he said, checking the sight.

“I’d be hearing the sweet sound of silence Johnny.”

“Tirty four, tirty five, tirty six.”

“Oh fuck you.” she snapped, realising she’d lost count and decided to restart, “one, two-”

“Tree.” Johnny said from the couch, and she stopped and stared daggers at the back of his head, or at least tried to, a smirk was still insistent at pulling at her lips. She dropped down, admitting defeat and crossed to the table, picking up her water and unscrewing the bottle.

“Arsehole.” she said before taking a drink.

“Hey I’m just here making sure you don’t take things too seriously.” he replied with a shrug.

“I’m doing people a disservice if I don’t, Lin...Alan...Matteo.” she said, and Johnny paused, his eyes flicking to a point to the left of her, his jaw tensed before he coughed and looked up at her.

“All three of those wouldn’t want you pushin’ yourself like this.”

“I’m pushing myself because I want to push myself Johnny, I need to be stronger, I need to be faster.”

“OK,” Johnny conceded with a nod, “but weren’t you like-peak form back then? You still got shot, they still died.” he said and Shea blinked.

“Thanks Johnny.” she snapped, and he grimaced and rolled his shoulder,

“My point-” he stressed, hands up before his eyes darted back to hers, “-is that there’s nothin’ you coulda done different. Alan died because he wanted to stop the Samedi moving in on the circle, Matteo died because he wanted to defend the church and help his friends,” Johnny’s voice was rising now, harsh with bitterness, “and Lin died because Julius decided that keeping up appearances was better than getting our girl outta there!”

        Shea shook and turned her head, blinking back tears. It was all still fresh to her, she still felt like they’d buried Lin last month, and it was hard wrapping her head around the fact that it was all half a decade ago. She looked for something to stare at to distract herself, her eyes falling on the metal drum in the middle of the room that had a fire roaring inside it. But that didn’t help either, she kept seeing the flash of fire before it went cold and dark for so long. She had no choice but to look back at Johnny, and she was afraid of what she’d find there.

“I had no idea you felt that way about Julius.” Shea said, and Johnny shook his head,

“There’s a lot of things I’d say to him now if I could.”

“Why didn’t you say it back then?”

“I didn’t think it back then,” he shrugged, “but when you have two years in a cell with nothin’ but your own head for company, all you can do is think about where things went wrong.”

“Yeah man, I uh...been thinking a lot too.” She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She could feel him watching her, and the silence dragged.

“Shea, I’m gonna tell you this, and remember it-” he said, and she looked back at him and nodded, “Bodies fail, bodies give out, it’s about getting’ right back up and swingin’ again. Shit I seen you do? Seen nothin’ like like it before or since, but that was down to your sheer fuckin’ force of will, that stubborness that had us all wantin’ to fuckin’ strangle you sometimes.” he said through gritted teeth, his hands balling into fists.

           Shea was put in mind of the weeks following Lin’s death where Aisha was damn near ready to knock her out with a tire iron so she’d get some rest, and then Aisha would get some form of peace of mind, and Shea chuckled to herself.

“Well in that case, you mind spotting for me? I gotta do this.” she asked, shaking her head and pleading with her eyes, and she saw him sigh, a long frustrated sigh. He got to his feet then, nodding.

“Aight, fine.” he gave in, and she grinned and hugged him before bouncing back over to her iron bar superglued in the doorway

#rowvember2020 #Saints Row #boss shea #purple shamrock

[papa-nikki-writes]

Rowvember day 2-Ceremony

the formal activities conducted on some solemn or important public or state occasion: the coronation ceremony. a formal religious or sacred observance; a solemn rite: a marriage ceremony.

TW for a bit of blood, nothing majorly graphic though, shit happens during cannonisation

“I can’t believe you made me do that.” Shaundi huffed, and Shea turned, raising an eyebrow as she took a drag on her cigarette. Shaundi was sat, head back with a bloody tissue pressed against her nose, and Shea reached out a hand and guided her head forwards gently.

“You don’t need to swallow your blood you know.”

“Thanks for the stellar advice Boss.” she snapped, and Shea chuckled.

“Hey we all had to go through it, “she replied, dusting off a spot on the dirty floor next to Shaundi before throwing herself down onto the ground, watching Carlos take one of Johnny’s punches before charging with one of his own, and the Saints- some more bloodied than others-cheered them on.

“Yeah but you never fought Gat.” Shaundi said, pulling the tissue away before swiping at her nose, checking if the blood was still flowing, and again Shea laughed. Shaundi turned to her then, confused. “Wait-you have?” she asked and Shea nodded and offered a drag on her cigarette.

“We didn’t get on at first.” she answered as Shaundi accepted the toke, and Shea shrugged, “Shit happens. You handled it well by the way.” she added, “I know you’re not a fighter-”

“-Was it that obvious?” Shaundi asked as she handed the cig back.

“Yeah why do you think he went straight for the nose and told you to fuck off? Don’t worry about it, canonisation is there to separate who’ll put their bodies on the line for the cause and who won’t. You did. You’re a Saint sweetie.”

“It’s that simple huh?” Shaundi smirked, and Shea shrugged.

“Mostly. That, and uh-trauma bonding. Blood in, blood out.” she replied, wincing as Carlos dropped to the floor, and a chorus of ‘ooooooo’ bounced from one Saint to another. Shea checked her watch, seven minutes in a fight with Johnny Gat wasn’t half bad, only one scoring higher than that was Pierce at ten, because the man had enough sense to dance away as much as he could and time his shots. Carlos bless him, went charging all guns blazing, which, fair play to the lad too, lasted longer than anyone in that circle was betting.

        Johnny walked over and pulled him to his feet, clapping him on the back to raucous cheering and whooping, steadying him when he staggered sideways slightly before pointing him over in Shea and Shaundi’s direction, and he walked over, shaking his head as if he had water in the ear.

“Can’t fucking hear.”he chuckled, and Shea smiled, maybe the kid was just as crazy as the best of them.

“Well done!” Shea said, “Got some solid form to you.”

“Ah, it’s just because I’m short-closer to the ground.” he joked, and Shea grinned as she watched the smoke from her cig curl upwards, dissipating into the space where dust met air, and Shea had no idea where one stopped and the other began. She knew that feeling, being on the shorter side of average herself.

“Who taught you how to fight? Your brother?” Shea asked, flicking ash, and Carlos shook his head.

“No-our mother.” he replied, and Shea let out a low whistle of approval.

“Nice, sounds like my kinda woman.”

“Well you saw what I do, you helped me take that Reaper. Gotta know how to defend yourself in a business like ours.”

“True.” Shea nodded, taking a drag and exhaling with a nod, “was that what landed you in jail? Grand theft auto?”

“Yeah, plus robbery, extortion, jaywalking.” he added, and Shea burst into laughter,

“Shit they got you with jaywalking too? How about you?” she asked Shaundi.

“That and drugs.” she shrugged, and Shea shook her head.

“Fucking jaywalking. Waste of space fucking felony.” she growled before her eyes found Pierce in the crowd of Saints, and she nodded at him, “What about him? Know his deal?” she asked, and Shaundi shrugged.

“I heard he was a Vice King, but he didn’t really talk to a lot of people while I was serving my time.”

“I saw him talking to Gat a few times.” Carlos cut in, surveying Pierce as he crossed his arms, “not regularly, but there you go.”

        Interesting. That would explain why he was in jail but the question remained as to what kind of Vice King he was, what faction was he under, King’s, Warren’s or Tanya’s? One option was decidedly better for her than the other two of course. Maybe one day she’d ask him once they’d all settled in, one thing for certain is that he had an easy charm about him, he was already in the middle of a few of the newly canonised.

“...Boss...yo Boss!” Johnny’s voice broke her out of her thoughts and she nodded in greeting, finishing off her cigarette and looking from Johnny to the kid looking to be canonised.

“’Sup?” she asked, as the potential Saint watched her with curious eyes, and Johnny nodded at him. He was a skinny thing, looked to be of Southeast Asian descent and built. He was young, easily in his early twenties and covered in more tattoos than even she, even his face was full of them.

“Kid wants to fight you.”

“Me?” she asked, stamping the cig boot under her boot before jumping up, “alright.”

“Boss, you gonna be alright though? You said your reflexes were still off.”

“I’m nothing if not adaptable Carlos, don’t worry about it.” Shea smirked, clapping a hand on his shoulder before setting off towards the circle. She crossed Johnny’s path as he made his way to the sidelines, and he caught her arm to pull her back, head bent low.

“Say the word and I’ll tag in.”

“What? And embarrass myself?”

“You came out of a coma a week ago.” he pointed out, and she smiled and touched a hand to the arm blocking her way.

“-And broke out of jail and sprang you from the courthouse.” she replied, she used to fight for a living before the Saints after all, and what example would she be setting if she rejected the challenge? Johnny was still unconvinced, but lowered his arm.

“Alright, but don’t show me up.” he warned, he was joking, but he wasn’t. Shea understood, he’d shown everyone that he placed his trust in her, that she could get shit done, and if she lost to some kid now it would raise some questions that could really fuck up her case for leadership before it even began. Turning down the challenge would do the same.

“I want to know who I’ll be following.” the kid explained as she stood opposite him, stretching her muscles in preparation.

“Fair.” Shea replied, feeling the anticipation of the fight building, it was always dizzying, but the rush was like no other, “Your move kid, ready when you-”

       She felt the punch across the face before she saw it and she staggered back, finally steadying herself and bouncing on the balls of her feet with glee, he wasn’t a rookie after all, so this was going to be fun. The cheers from the circle around her told her that they knew it too.

      He threw another punch, and Shea ducked low before giving him a quick kidney blow, back stepping and circling around. She was being cautious with this one, something about the way he moved reminded her of her. He lunged again and she parried and circled around again but he caught her in the side of the head with his other fist, and she twirled out of the way, creating distance as her eyes locked onto his.

      He charged forward again, and he was really starting to feel familiar, he was all offence, but quick, could be devastating pretty quickly and seemed to focus on upper body strikes, just like someone else she knew.

“You wouldn’t happen to frequent the Red light circle, would you?” she asked, and he grinned.

“We talking or are we fighting?” he replied, and Shea raised an eyebrow.

“Fine.”

      She waited for him to throw a punch again and sidestepped, lifting her leg and kicking him in the side, sending him off balance and she jumped and switched legs to kick him right under the chin and send him crashing to the ground. He lay there dazed for a moment, staring at the ceiling with unfocused eyes before he blinked and pushed up, flipping himself back up onto his feet, and cheers erupted around them.

        His next punch was like lightning, and Shea had been moving to block but he was too fast and she staggered back, tasting copper in her mouth. She watched for the next one, running her tongue over her teeth to make sure she hadn’t lost any. Seems like Junior here had been holding back before but why? Didn’t make sense if he really wanted to put her to the test.

          He didn’t want to let her get any rest either, because soon enough he closed the distance between them again so Shea charged at him, grabbing him round the middle and crashing to the floor with him. Dust plumes rose up around them and the Saints moved in closer to get a better look, whooping and yelling as she punched wherever she could reach and he threw his arms up to protect his face before shifting their weight to turn the tables, and Shea lamented the smaller stature that the coma had given her for a moment before grabbing his face and colliding her forehead with his, then using his shock to roll out from under him before coming back and wrapping her arm around his neck in a sleeper hold and squeezing hard.

        He thrashed and scratched but Shea held on tight, wincing when his nails dug grooves in her flesh, even when he managed to scramble to his feet she still had hold of him, and as the lack of oxygen took the strength from his legs they both crashed back to the floor, and she felt three taps on her arm.

       She let him go then, moved him into the recovery position and pressed two fingers to his neck, keeping track of his pulse as it beat against her fingers. She smiled and sat back, her own chest heaving before she placed a hand on his back and bent her head to his ear, and she saw him blink sweat out of his eyes as he tried to get his breath back.

“Welcome to the Saints, lad.” she said, clapping him twice on the back as the Saints around them raised the roof. She looked around at them all, faces alight with joy and a little bloodlust, and her eyes fell on each of her lieutenants in turn.

       Because this wasn’t just the Canonisation of the new Saints, to test if they were any good, it was technically a test to see if she was any good too. At the end of the day she had no idea what she was doing, but these people needed a leader regardless.

       Shea didn’t have a clue how to be a leader, before the Saints she was a member of a street fighting circle, and Alan Carlisle had been their leader and a father to them of sorts, in the Saints she followed Julius. This was new to her.

      Johnny caught her eye and nodded to the top of the stairs, she followed where he indicated and flicked her gaze back to his, and he nodded more incessantly, and finally she got what he meant, time for a speech.

     She scrambled to her feet as Junior slowly began to move again, and jumped the stairs two at a time, her heart hammering. She’d never been one for public speaking, and didn’t have anything prepared, but as she turned and stared at all the faces looking back at her, she could only think of what Julius said all those years ago, when she got to the church on the fourteenth of July 2001.

“Alright everybody, listen up! Got some serious shit to discuss, ” she yelled as she reached the top.

        The energy in the air back then was here now, only this time everyone was looking to her, and it exhilarated her as much as it terrified, and she paced, expending this excess energy.

“The Saints used to own Stilwater, and it seems the only motherfuckers that remember that is me and Gat-” she said, her eyes finding Johnny and his smirk in the crowd as he nodded, and she grinned, feeling twenty one again, “-I think it’s time we gave those other crews a wake up call.”

         More cheers, and it brought a smile to her face, memories, back in the day the Saints had started out just like this, small, rowdy, but passionate, they wanted to reclaim their home. Now they were going to reclaim their city. It would be a long road ahead, but they had did it once, they could do it again.

"Now I ain't gonna lie, a lotta shit's changed since I've been outta the game, so I'm gonna need some help.” she said, before her eyes locked onto Pierce. “Pierce, you're on the Ronin. I wanna know who's calling the shots and what businesses they're running." "Done." Pierce smiled, confident-and God, he reminded her so much of Dex in that moment, she had no doubt that he was competant, but currently the only loyalty she was sure of having in this room was Johnny’s and Carlos’.

         She had been blown to hell by one of the Saints originals, she knew that- just didn’t know which one, so she would be holding most at arms length. She didn’t want to, but she didn’t want to go through all that again either. She surveyed him for a moment before her eyes flicked to Shaundi, who leaned back a bit under her gaze, a small thing, but Shea clocked it. "Shaundi, you got the Sons of Samedi." She said, Shaundi’s expertise was drugs, who better to take down a gang whose main income was drugs? It was a no brainer, however Shea saw her grimace. "It's gotta be them?" she asked, and Shea felt annoyance bubble in the pit of her stomach, five minutes in and she was already getting questioned. It bothered her more than it should have, she knew she had a lot to prove. "Fuck you say?" she snapped, and Shaundi held her hands up. "It's cool...I...I got this." she said, and Shea’s eyes then flicked to her last lieutenant. "Carlos-" she began, but he smiled and uncrossed his arms. "The Brotherhood, I'm on it." he said, and Shea smiled, both out of pride and relief and nodded. “Alright. Once we're done here talk to one of these guys-” she pointed at each of her lieutenants as she addressed the rest of her new gang, “-they'll have something for you to do. It's our time now, let's get this shit started."

#Saints Row #rowvember #boss shea #purple shamrock #rowvember2020