#some days are shaundi days but today is a pierce day

[masschase]

for the ask meme: rank johnny, shaundi, pierce, kinzie, and viola!

Ask meme

Sorry this took so long to respond to! I've been inexplicably exhausted for the last few days and carpal tunnel is also slowing my typing sadly.

Ranking is difficult because I change my mind a lot and find it hard to stick to hcs which is probably how I end up with so many AUs! This is for TODAY, right this minute. Tomorrow it will change most likely! 😅

1. Pierce Idk why I'm so drawn to Pierce, I mean obviously the fact he wasn't treated well in canon may have factored in, but overall it's hard to put my finger on. I think also yeah I like him for being the smart tactician type guy and the fact he's stylish and tough too makes him a bit of an all-rounder. But I think he also has this low level insecurity because of how he's treated (and in my hc things like his sexuality etc. factor in) that makes him really endearing and interesting to make hcs for. His sing alongs with the Boss feel so fun and authentic even if they're not placed as well as they could be and he's just super loveable.

2. Johnny Yeah I know he's somewhat overrated but that includes by me sadly. I want to take him apart and study the fucker. I feel like he's only so high on the list because I'm obsessed with his relationship with the Boss even whether it's platonic or not(in my hc I'd say platonish). He is super fun to write and RP!

3. Kinzie I'm biased because one of my best friends adores and relates Kinzie and as a result I'm not sure I should have her this high. But I must admit from when I first played I thought she was intriguing. Idk I like her because she's a little weird I hope that clears it up. I'm also a socially anxious paranoid vaguely kinky nerd so make of that what you will.

4. Viola OK Viola and Shaundi are kind of joint for me, especially as I like them shipped together, and pretty much joint with Kinzie too. But I really feel for Viola so hard by the end of SR3 and I would have liked to see more of her, I also find any hcs about the dynamic between her and Kiki really interesting too.

5. Shaundi I feel so bad because I adore her 😭 she's even one of Casey's (doomed, but still) ships. But these are all characters I love so someone will end up last, and as I said, Viola has that tiny bit more interest for me.

[izzy-b-hands]

I Prefer Your Love

A continuation to the Gat/Boss request I posed earlier today, because now we’re deep in the pain of Saints Row Three with Boss Ellis lol. Also, I’m just really having fun writing these two up, their relationship, everything. I really wanna go back and give them more Gat/Boss/Aisha time too (because I love Aisha dearly, and she really is the brains of the group, even if they won’t admit it every time lol.) 

This is written pre-acquisition of Matt Miller in SR3 (aka about where I am in my current playthrough lol) but I plan to feature him in other fics with Boss Ellis!

Major TW for suicidal ideation, suicidal attempts via gang violence, and definitely PTSD that, for my boss, is dangerously undiagnosed (though to be fair, I think we could safely say that’s a dx for all the Saints.) 

Also hey, wanna cry while reading this? Here’s the two songs I had most on repeat while writing this that by the end had me tearing up in how they relate to the fic and Ellis’ and Johnny’s relationship (also the first one is where I got the fic title from): https://open.spotify.com/track/0Snb87Z4Zdn6YFMicWA7gx?si=i_mPPaSlTJq_9LIUdsHw6A and https://open.spotify.com/track/0pY9xoiH9hNo166spIpQWt?si=HK5w7Y3YTNOuIFZv8RKxLw

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

His phone goes off mid-fire-fight, and he resists the urge to be too upset. When it rains it pours, and this pouring isn’t anything new. 

“Where the fuck are you?” 

“Gosh, the sound of gunfire might give you a hint,” Ellis replies with a deep sigh as he swings around to take out another Decker. “Why?”

“No! I can hear you’re fighting, but where exactly are you?” 

“By Nobody Loves Me, where are you?” he sasses back. “I’m busy.” 

“Oh my god. We’ve been terrified, no one could find you last night-” 

“Shaundi, can this wait?” he tries to sound sympathetic, but there’s none right now. “You guys didn’t even call me, or text. I checked my phone. It can’t have been that emergent.” 

The line goes dead, and he focuses back on the fight. There are more Deckers than he expected, and he’s starting to notice the lightheaded sensation of blood loss and bullet wounds now, but so what? 

Johnny would be proud of that, if he went down in a hail of bullets. 

Before he can take out the latest Decker, a kid who looks too young to be out without his parents, let alone in a gang, he’s up and in the air.

“Oleg, put me the fuck down. I’m ending this.” 

“They will end you my friend, if you stay. You can end things another day. For now, we need to get you to the hospital.” 

“I’m fine!” his struggling means nothing to Oleg, not even as the butts of his dual-wielded pistols hit the man’s massive fists. “Put me the fuck down, now! That’s a goddamn order!” 

But he’s in the back of a truck, still held gently by Oleg, who ignores his fussing, his spitting of literal blood, and it’s then that he starts to realize it’s rather hard not to choke on it. 

“Stop talking,” Oleg finally says softly, and that’s the last thing he hears.

**

The light is so bright, but he can see purple. Purple is good, if he could feel it, he’d know the texture, Johnny’s usual favorite jacket, the one he’d lend to Ellis whenever he got cold, the one he loved having him wear when they fucked, just the jacket and nothing else, and-

“Pierce?” 

“Well goddamn. Sound more disappointed, why don’t you,” Pierce scolds him. His head is in Pierce’s lap. Why is he laying in Pierce’s lap?

Sitting up, especially quickly, is a terrible choice as it turns out, and he vomits into the bucket near the couch as he flops back down. 

“Thankfully, I didn’t wear a nice suit today,” Pierce remarks wryly. “How you feelin’?” 

“Like shit. But I felt like that before getting shot.” 

“Yeah, but you got shot a lot. Like, enough that you shouldn’t be here. And you probably shouldn’t be here, in HQ right now, but we know you got your thing about hospitals, not wanting to wake up in ‘em, so we convinced the doctor to let you recover here. He’ll be coming by to check on you-” 

The tears come before he can stop them. “Why did you do this?” 

“The hell are you talking about?” Shaundi’s voice from behind the couch. “Do what? Save your ass?” 

“I was so close to him,” Ellis whimpers. “I could taste it, in between the blood and the gun powder. I was almost with him again.” 

They go silent except for a sharp intake of breath from Pierce. “Boss-” 

“I was almost with him again!” he’s screaming and it hurts his chest, his lungs, but nothing hurts more than his heart right now. “And you took me away from him! How fucking selfish of you all-” 

“Selfish?” Shaundi interrupts, with a shocked scoff. “Excuse me?” 

He stands, but it hurts so bad he could pass out, but he fights off the darkness threatening to encroach on the corners of his vision, but he can’t stop moving now. “You fucking heard me. You took me away from my husband!” 

“No one took you away from Johnny!” Shaundi’s voice is sharp in his ears, like a knife in his side. “Loren took Johnny away from us! You were just out there trying to get yourself killed, like you have a death wish or someth-” 

She interrupts herself with a gasp, a hand flies to her mouth. 

“Oh, don’t look so fucking surprised,” Ellis spits. “And I was this close to making it. I was going to see him again. Hold him again. Kiss him again, apologize for letting him die. And you fucks took that away from me.” 

He ignores the footsteps following him as he stumbles out the backdoor of the living room to the pool area, around the slippery flooring to the helipad. One of their smaller planes is still there, and there’s a haze from the narcotic pain pills they must have given him at the hospital, but it isn’t the first time he’s flown while high. 

But it might be the last, if he does this right. 

“Get him out of that!” and he’s never heard Kinzie be that loud so far. She could go far in the Saints, if she could yell that authoritatively more often. She’ll have to, maybe, once this is finally done. She’d be a good second hand to Shaundi, if Shaundi steps up and takes over like he hopes she will. 

In any case, it’s too late as he takes off, and pays sparing attention to the controls as he flies, at times only resting his knees on the controls, the plane bobbing and weaving up and down and entirely too close to buildings. 

It’s all quite funny, until a sharp clearing of the breath in the passenger seat. 

“The fuck are you doing?” 

Ellis shrugs, and reaches over for Johnny’s hand, but feels nothing. “I’m going to find you. I can do it.” 

Johnny shakes his head. “No, you can’t, and no you aren’t. I’m not even real right now, you know that. I know you do. You’re only seeing me because you want to, because you need help, and for some godforsaken reason, you only want it from me, and refuse to let anyone else in.” 

“Why would you say something so cruel,” he pouts as he nudges the controls at random, enjoying the turbulence. “I just want to be with you again. You wanted to be with Aisha, and you are now. I miss you both, so why can’t I come be with you?” 

“I could tell you it’s just because they need you,” Johnny replies softly as he takes off his sunglasses, and the tears come again as Ellis sees his eyes, the most gorgeous he’s ever been lucky enough to look into. “Or just because it isn’t your time yet. And those two things are true, by the way.” 

“Stop,” Ellis begs him, a whisper. 

“Go land on the island,” Johnny instructs.

Below them, the island where the plane Johnny had been on, had died on, had crashed. 

“I don’t want to land. I want to crash. I can be done, with all of this,” he weeps. “Don’t you want to see me again? Don’t you miss me?” 

There are tears in Johnny’s eyes now too. “Of course I do. I love you. But this isn’t the way, I promise. I know you can’t understand it right now, but you will see me again, just not the way you’re thinking or how you’d expect. Don’t do this.” 

He lands, admittedly difficult on the small and bumpy island, but he manages. As soon as they’re safely stopped, he clambers into the passenger seat, into what should be Johnny’s lap, he can see it, but he can’t feel it as he sits there, and the lack of sensation is worse than being shot with any bullet. 

He sobs, and wishes for Johnny’s arms around him, even as he hears the soft and sweet words in Johnny’s voice, urging him to just listen, for once. “Get on the boat when they get here. Take a break, for a few weeks. Let them handle shit. Come back to me, to yourself. I know how shit gets for you, how bad it gets in your head, how hard this is, but it isn’t worth it. I need you to stay here with them. We’ll be together again, I promise.” 

It’s nearly dark by the time the rest of the Saints arrive, and he lets Shaundi, her make-up running down her face, breath hitching as she cries, help him out of the plane. Pierce, sniffling, is the one who keeps him upright when he slips on the edge of the boat, and it’s Kinzie who helps him settle on the backseat of it. 

“Oleg would have sank it,” she tries to giggle, but her eyes are red and tired looking, and it falls flat as he leans against her. “Otherwise he’d be here. But he’s back at HQ, waiting to help get you into your room.” 

“That sounds nice,” and he means it to sound that way genuinely, but he can hear how flat his voice is. Nothing he does can make it sound better, and he isn’t sure it matters anyway. 

He doesn’t hear Johnny again until he’s back at home, after being gently washed by Oleg of all people, who tells him a tale of how he used to work as a medic for some friends of his who got in bad situations of varying sorts, and they always requested him for sponge baths while horribly injured. “Apparently, my hands are very gentle. It is a nice thing to hear, don’t you think?” 

He can’t respond, and doesn’t try to until he’s alone, and Johnny is back too. 

“You can’t do this again.” 

“Then what do I do?” 

“You keep fighting. You keep working. You stop pretending that you’re just magically okay, and not hurting. You let them in. You let them help. And by the time you get back to me, we’ll both be doing better.” 

He can’t stop the tears again, even though it hurts his eyes to cry again, so sore and dry from the weeping he’s already done for the day. “I’m not going to hear from you again after this, am I?” 

He swears, he’s certain, he can feel Johnny’s lips on his for just a second. “No. But you will get me back. Did you really think I’d leave you alone forever? Didn’t we both say we wouldn’t do that to each other?” 

He nods, and then Johnny is gone, and the bedroom is entirely too big and quiet. 

And it’ll be like that for a long time, he knows that now. But a person can get used to anything, so long as it’s temporary. 

And he can do it, for Johnny. 

Johnny would be proud of that, of him keeping on, even when everything inside of him is screaming at him to stop.

Johnny would be proud, and he’ll live to see him be proud, if it’s the last thing he does. 

[queenofthesaints]

Armani, Gucci, Dolce & Gabbana | Matt & Emiline

Back in Stillwater, the Rounds Shopping Centre was a total hoot. It was always busy and took in a raking of cash despite it being rather out of the way and hidden in the underground district. It was especially popular with Shaundi and when she wasn’t high off her tits, she’d always hit the malls (and when she was lucky) drag the boss along. Emiline didn’t mind the mall but she wasn’t a huge shopper and it drove her a little crazy when Shaundi wanted to look at some ‘cute heels’ in Leather & Lace for about 2 hours. It was time that could be spent much better which was why she avoided shopping with the over spender and shopaholic brunette. Though today was one of these days. A new shopping mall had opened  in a small city outside of Steelport, one that seemed pretty clean and fresh. It was actually pretty different too, a pretty nice place if you didn’t include the ugly fucks who slugged around.

With an irritable sigh, Emiline rolled her eyes at Shaundi who was trying about 3 different dresses in different colours in some sort of new retail store, which looked too overpriced for it’s own good. “I’ll come see you when you’re ready, Shaundi. Gimme a call when you’re ready.” she noted Shaundi was too engaged in looking at the dresses to really listen but shrugged to herself as she exited the small store and walked through the mall hoping for something interesting to happen. That or hopefully she would come across a cool shop. Though thus far, it seemed to be the same old shit.

As she walked along, she suddenly saw a flash of black from the corner of her eye. She stopped for a moment and looked closer seeing someone with black hair and a pale and familiar face. They were stood alone or at least from where she was stood it seemed this way. She was pretty sure it was Matt. She hadn’t actually seen him in a few weeks since Asha had come over with him for Pierce’s birthday party and that had been a little awkward. She was still a little fishy about him. She was very weary of people and especially of Matt being of their past. She knew things were different now but it would understandably take some time before she could trust him fully, even if it was a year. Even so, she figured she’d go over and say hi. If not out of being polite out of just having someone worthy to talk to.

Heading in his direction, Emiline stood behind him, her long golden hair bouncing off her shoulders as she walked. She stood behind him, reaching her arm out and poking him on the shoulder.  “Hey you.”

[thesovietboss]

Decided to put my 3 AM creative juices to work and finally got around to writing up some backstory for Nastasya.

Nastasya leaned over the edge of her patio and stared out into the lights of the city below. The normally bustling penthouse was completely empty, just like it had been the year before on this same date. It had taken only one hospitalization for the rest of the Saints to realize that it was in their best interest to stay away from Nastasya around this date. Five years ago today, Nastasya had made a stupid decision that haunted her to this day. Five years ago, she'd chosen petty revenge over the life of one of her best friends. Shaundi had been killed because Nastasya decided she couldn't simply let Killbane go. Because she'd listened to Angel instead of Pierce. Pierce. He'd become the mayor after she declared Steelport a city-state, led the people during the ensuing war. The public saw him as a hero. Few today knew of the time when he was just a young thug running the streets, hanging with the Saints back in Stillwater. Pushing off the railing, Nastasya walked back inside the penthouse, pulled a beer from the minifridge underneath the couch, and popped the lid off with her thumb. She dropped onto the cushions and took a quick swig from the bottle, grimacing. Tasted like shit. Always did. Her preference was actually bourbon, but beer was much better than liquor tonight. Not as dangerous to her health. She and Pierce had entered a sort of courtship after Shaundi's death, taking solace in her absence with each other. But it lasted only a few months before she broke everything off. Nastasya knew he blamed her for Shaundi's death. She couldn't take that kind of guilt on top of her own guilt. They hadn't seen each other alone in years. Throwing the empty bottle across the room, Nastasya pulled out another one and took a swig.

~~~~~~

Oleg made his way up the stairs at a deliberately slow pace. A headset blinked away in his ear, the only source of light other than the dim emergency lights near the floor. "Seriously, Oleg. You don't want to do this," Kinzie said in his ear. "The Boss gets very violent this time of year." "As opposed to any other point in the year?" Oleg replied with a half-smile. "Do not worry," he added before Kinzie could reply. "I am more than capable of dealing with anything Nastasya can do to me." Kinzie sighed audibly. "Just... Promise me you'll be careful?" she asked, genuine concern leaking into her voice. "I promise, Myshka," Oleg nodded. "But it's been five years. Someone needs to help her."

~~~~~~

Groping around for another beer, Nastasya came up empty and growled. She'd have to get another case from the big fridge downstairs. "Boss?" Nastasya sat up suddenly, her hand changing target from beer to gun, but also coming up empty. Oleg came into view from around that stupid statue in the middle of the room. "Пошёл на́ хуй!" she shouted, grabbing a bottle from the table and hurling it at him. The bottle bounced harmlessly off his massive form and rolled away. "Good to see you can still aim," Oleg nodded, clearly undeterred by her violent outburst. "You're lucky I cannot find my gun," Nastasya growled, holding another bottle aloft and watching him as he settled into the armchair she'd had built specifically to accommodate his size. "That is also true," Oleg said plainly, leaning on his knees and staring at the Boss intently. Nastasya stared back, bottle still upheld. They remained like this for almost ten minutes before her arm dropped. "The fuck do you want, Oleg?" Nastasya asked, putting the bottle on the table and settling into a more comfortable position. "I want you to talk to me," the Russian giant answered with a soft tone. "It has been five years. Every year, you lock yourself in this room and spend a week doing nothing but drinking and staring off the edge of the building." "So what? It's my penthouse, I can do what I want with it," Nastasya replied, never breaking his gaze. "This isn't healthy, Nastasya," Oleg shook his head. "Physically or mentally. So... Talk to me." Nastasya's lip curled in a sneer and she stood up. She started towards the other side of the couch, intending on getting more beer from the storage area, when Oleg raised his hand. She stopped and looked back to him. "Please, Nastasya." He looked at her with a gaze that could only be described as begging. "You cannot keep doing this. Do you really think Shaundi would want this?" "SHAUNDI WOULD WANT TO BE ALIVE!" Nastasya shouted, scooping a bottle off the floor and hurling it at Oleg again, striking him in the head this time. The glass shattered, leaving bloody scratches along his scalp. He didn't even flinch, which infuriated Nastasya. "AND SHE WOULD BE!" she shouted, throwing another bottle at him, which shattered against his chest. "IF I... IF I..." Another bottle, this time time only bouncing off again. Wet spots formed at the corners of her eyes. "If I..." Nastasya dropped to her knees, letting the last bottle roll away as tears slid down her cheeks and she choked out a sob. Oleg stood and walked over. Dropping to the ground next to Nastasya, the giant man gathered her into his embrace and held her close as she cried. She beat her fists on him as hard as possible, but eventually stopped and just buried her face into his chest as he stroked her hair slowly. "I killed her," Nastasya said around sobs, reverting to Russian. "I couldn't let revenge go, and it got my best friend killed." "It was not your fault. You could not know that Kia was not bluffing," Oleg replied softly in Russian, still stroking her hair. Nastasya babbled some more, but her sobs masked most of it, before she stopped talking all together. After a few moments, the sobs turned into soft snoring.

~~~~~

Nastasya awoke to find Oleg asleep on the floor next to the couch, where she laid with a blanket pulled over her. She looked at him with her head cocked to the side, remembering the previous night, then reached down and gripped his hand with her own. "Спасибо, Товарищ," she murmured. Nastasya doubted this would be the end of her... Issues, but last night had helped. More than he would probably realize.

[saints-row-2]

i wrote like 1000 words about Nicu after Johnny died and then i got bored so its just. here

The world ends. It ends one night as the Boss and Shaundi plummet out of a plane and down into an unfamiliar city. It falls apart around them along with the bodies and the cargo streaking out of the sky, and raining down upon the earth. The Boss and Shaundi watch everything come apart with the ease of a glass plate smashing on stone; neither of them knew how fragile the surface they had been dancing upon truly was.

The world ends, and then it continues. No one else takes notice that the Apocalypse has come and gone, and they are living in a new world now, one born when the other fell to its death and shattered like fragile bone. This new world crawled out of the wreckage of the old, viscera and gore detaching from the ruined body of the old and then stumbling on, a bloody wreck that shuddered grotesquely into a new half-life. And because no one crushed it when it was still a young and squalling thing, now it has become huge. The new world, new life, has enveloped them all inside of it, and there is no escaping it now.

This is how Boss envisions it, the first night of the rest of their life. They lie in the dark and mouth words about the Apocalypse, things priests told them from the pulpit and in quiet conversations meant to inspire them to follow a better path. They remember more of the words than they expected. They don’t always remember why they are saying these things; in the dark, cramped room, filled up with crates of guns and bombs, their memories are even harder to grasp onto than usual. The reality they are in makes no sense to them now.  

Shaundi sees them that night, in the silence of her ex’s apartment, lying on a sofa that’s comically undersized. They spill over the edges of it, legs dangling over the end, arms and shoulders crushes against the sides. They still have their contact lenses in, their eyes unnaturally scarlet and wide, wide open. They have been so brusque and unbothered that until now Shaundi has been able to convince herself that they are mourning the same way they mourned Carlos and Aisha; an explosion of anger that decimates everyone standing in their way and then flattens out, is folded away and forgotten about.

It’s in that moment that Shaundi sees something is wrong with the Boss. Her, Pierce, Boss, they are all mourning, in their own ways. Pierce does not show it, there is a quiet rationality to his actions. He does not need to have an open outpouring of grief, Pierce needs to get on with business. Shaundi has taken after the Boss she used to know, the Boss from the old world. She is ready to kill, to rip down the walls and destroy everyone cowering in fear of her and her rage.

“For, behold, the Lord will come with fire, and with his chariots like a whirlwind, to render his anger with fury, and his rebuke with flames of fire,” Boss says.

They don’t sleep much that night, or any night afterwards.

They shave off their hair – bushy and thick and deep purple-pink – down to the scalp, so close they tear old scar tissue and make themselves bleed. They stop wearing crop tops and shorts and fishnets, no longer able to make the effort, dwelling instead in baggy sweatpants and hoodies that make them look like they’re having a sick day. They never stop moving. Boss has always been a workaholic, always worked themselves to the point of exhaustion, but now they seem to have forgotten they have needs. None of it helps.

 In a room with Shaundi, Pierce, Viola, Kinzie and Oleg, you would have ten different opinions on what the Saints should do next. They all had something they needed to say and all they had some reasoning as to why everyone else’s ideas wouldn’t work. They could bicker like the best of them, sitting on the couches in Saints HQ and arguing like it was the new national pastime. Boss would sit and watch, let them do all the talking.

Pierce would notice sometimes, the way Boss’ eyes would just glaze over, and someone would have to call out to them to get them to come back to reality. They would always jerk with sudden surprise, as though waking up from unexpected sleep. They needed to sleep, but they would not. Could not. Today though, they are bright and involved, listening to the conversation readily.

“I know it don’t sound that important, but if we keep buying out Morningstar’s shares in property, we’re basically taking money right outta their pockets.”

“You’re right it doesn’t sound important. We have money, we need territory.”

“This gives us territory too. And we need more money.”

“I don’t have a problem with investment,” Boss says.

“See? It’s a good idea.”

“It isn’t enough.”

“I’m not saying it’s the only thing we do.”

“Then suggest some other things we do!”

“Well what the fuck you wanna do?”

“We’re up against bigger numbers. We have to do something about it.”

“I’m okay with killing a lot of people,” Boss says.

“Of course you are.”

“‘Kill everyone’ ain’t a plan.”

“Where’s Johnny?” Boss says.

In a room full of people who all have something to say, the silence is enormous. The Boss told Pierce once, that if Gat died, ‘Then we have bigger problems’, and Pierce thinks he finally understands what they mean.

“He’s… He’s dead Boss. That’s why we’re here.”

“Oh,” Boss says.

They lean back in their chair, and their eyes begin to glaze over as they stare out of the window at something none of the rest of them see.

 Boss is missing and they find them sitting on the steps of the huge black and red cathedral in Burns Hill with their head in their hands. Pierce sits down next to them and Shaundi kicks at their dirty work boots with the point of her heels to get their attention. They give a confused look, and she realises they don’t have their contact lenses in or their glasses on. Can they even see?

“Where’s Julius?” Boss says.

“He’s dead. You killed him.”

“Oh. Why would I do that?” Boss says.

“It’s your city. You can do anything you want.”

“I don’t want anything,” Boss says.

 Boss used to have a pendent. They wore it on a silver chain at all times, along with the purple leather choker they liked so much. Johnny wore a chain very like it, underneath his T-shirt. On it he wore two round dog tags he wouldn’t let anyone read. The Boss just wore a simple letter J, and couldn’t have hidden it even if they’d wanted to.

Everyone had known they had been more than friends by the end. No one ever said anything, but no one needed to. They’d been arguing for the first time in their lives, shouting at each other about fame and money and advertising, and then they would go back home to the same one-bed apartment and sleep in the same bed. They barely hid it; their relationship was an unspoken thing that existed without the need for explanation.

The Boss and Johnny never could talk about anything, and Boss couldn’t talk now. Pierce and Shaundi had heard about how they went months without ever speaking, before they were in charge. But Pierce and Shaundi never knew that Boss. They’re not sure they know this one.

[masschase]

chase, i am once again in your ask box begging for lore.

18 and 23 for the ask meme if you haven’t done them and i hope you have the best day today :3

I'm so sorry this took 2 days! My brain just didn't seem able to finish 🥲

Ask me about muh girlie

18. What was your character’s presidency like? How did they campaign?

OOH THIS QUESTION IS SO EXCITING :D

OK I'll start with her campaign.There were huge calls for the person who disabled the nuke to be the President at first.

The tv cut to news footage of the Boss on the screen, still in her suit in the slightly destroyed Oval Office being hounded by press. "I'm sure you'll get to know me soon enough. For now, just know this. I'm the leader of the Saints. If you've ever doubted us or our brand in the past, remember this: I just saved the BLEEP world BLEEPs. So you better show us some BLEEEEP respect.". The news cut to footage of crowds chanting while the anchor spoke again. "People are calling for the leader of the Saints to enter the running as President- if we can only get a hold of them..."

Pierce, Shaundi and Kinzie meet Casey in DC the following day and set up a press conference for the day after that. Funnily enough they do discuss the possibility of Pierce posing as the leader but he declines for personal reasons mostly regarding his sexuality and his overall safety. Casey decides she's just going to have to go for it and they talk about the angle they're going to take.

She thought for a second. "Is there any chance they're gonna buy that I'm a sweet wholesome Michigan girl?" Pierce raised an eyebrow. "Absolutely zero." he confirmed. "Yeah, I thought so..." she mused, thinking to herself again.

They decide they have a better chance at going with strength. Power. The fact that the Boss is not afraid to get her hands dirty to get shit done.

Unfortunately, the media manages to dig stuff up before the press conference. Kinzie was very thorough at encrypting Casey's name and real age (now 25) when she discovered them back in 2014. However there are pictures of her various aliases, her fake age (28, still too young to be president) and some of her exploits all over the news.

Pierce calls in a favour (he seems to "know a guy" in every city and I think we all know why) to makeover the Boss while he tries to persuade her to dress with a little more class, and eventually they give her a new image (something she mostly managed to swerve when the Saints hit fame by encouraging Pierce into the limelight.)

At the press conference they focus on strength, security, defense, and most importantly, finding ways to appeal to both sides. Overall the Saints policies are fairly left-wing, some more radical than the Dems but they pay lip service to the right too. I'm actually planning a post on this press conference soon; initially I was going to write it as a transcript but I find it way, way more interesting as a fully written piece because Casey's thoughts and feelings during in make it far more interesting. Here's a snippet.

"Yeah, sure, maybe I have been a little intense at times. But I'm not a violent person.". Hoo boy, that was hard to say with a straight face. All politicians lied though, right? She bit her lip a little but managed to compose herself a little. "I am not an attacker. I'm a defender, and I will stop at nothing to defend my country. I will kick terrorism's ass. I will beat poverty into submission. I will put a bullet in the gun violence in this country.". Ooh, she still really liked that part. She looked around at the approving crowd. "As for the most marginalised in our society... if you are downed... I will Pick. You. Back. Up. Again."

It's all ridiculously cheesy to be honest, but what else did you expect? The speech was written primarily by Pierce but with input from the other three (a bullet in gun violence was Shaundi's idea which means it was actually iamkinzie's idea in our rp) and Casey did ad-lib the odd part. She manages to deal with questions fairly well at the end, though the final one basically refers to her being spotted with women so she makes the decision to come out as bi and takes a clear pro LGBTQ+ stance (I can really see this appealing to some of the disillusioned Bernie Sanders fans). She relies on more platitudes to balance this out.

"If you have any kind of issue with this, I urge you to try and remember what country we are in. I want to ask you what freedom-" she emphasised. "'-means to you. Because the last I checked... this was America."

Cringe cringe. Yes a lot of this probably wouldn't work in real life. But c'mon guys she's a fucking Saints Row IV Boss. At times her tumblr version reaches full cartoon character. She had to win somehow, I'm just rationalising that the best I can. 🤣

The Saints were doing well for an independent, but overall it wasn't enough to swing things, even as late as mid-2016. They also still needed to do something about the age on the constitution. This is where the 4th July party came in. This is where the Saints manage to gain much of the support and investment needed to get the age changed as well as step up their campaigns for a greater share of votes.

This is also the same time the fake relationship for the media between Casey and Pierce began. The idea was to present it as a "we can't be public with this because of our work but awww we're secretly in love 👉👈" thing to cover up Pierce's then-closeted queerness and Casey's promiscuity, and they had relative success with it tbh.

I think it was never a dead cert, but once the amendment passed, it sent a very clear message they were likely to win. There was still a little uncertainty right up until Novemver. But they just about scraped the win.(woooo fuck Trump!)

The actual presidency? I think she was competent enough actually, at least with the team she had around her. I don't imagine the promised vision came around overnight, but they were getting there. Trouble was, she stopped giving a fuck about her public image. She started dressing more like herself, giving less of a fuck about speeches, put less effort into covering up the drinking, drugs and sex. Kind of leading into what we see in IV with the really low approval ratings.

Casey would not have gotten a second term. In the unlikely event she did, Pierce had already resigned effective then (he's already made it clear he's not her second in command anymore, and Kinzie and Oleg would've probably would've left together too.

If anything, this was why she had to spend much of Saints Row IV earning back her friends' respect.

23. How did you structure the series’ timeline for your character?

Ooh so I don't know if this means what is the timeline or why I chose the timeline? I have answered an ask on this before but I can't find the link and I love my timeline so always happy to talk about it 😊

2006: Saints Row, spread across the summer probably June-Aug/Sept? Obviously SRIV says "the Saints made themselves known to the world in 2006" or something to that effect, obviously the game came out in 2006 and I just think it is mostly agreed that's when that took place

2011: Saints Row 2, July/Aug to Oct. I can't see the coma being exactly 5 years and this too seems to take place over the summer. Fairly easy decision, I didn't use any particular dates from the game I don't think.

2012-2014: Saints rise to fame.

2014: Saints Row the Third: September-December. In-game news reports span autumn/winter.

2015: SRIV Zero Saints Thirty/disabling of the nuke. Probably around September/October time. This is when the presidential campaign starts. I decided on the date because SRTT dlc stuff is apparently the first half of 2015, and just to make the other dates work.

2016: Main past section of my fanfic in June/July. Casey elected President, November obviously. I think maybe it's implied in a jokey way that the Boss just fell into the job but then it's also clear they're still in their first term 5 years later so... really this makes sense and is in line with actual election dates.

2020: Main bulk of Saints Row IV. March-May. Obviously it needed to be before November and I'm not quite sure why I settled on March but yeah, earth was invaded by the Zin on the 3rd March. Just for fun, some of the character's rescue dates: 6th Mar-Casey 9th Mar- Matt 17th Mar- Shaundi 25th Mar- Pierce 15th Apr- Johnny So again it's not actually a full 5 years, but I feel like it's close enough that one would term it "5 years later"

2021: Gat out of Hell. Idk I felt like placing Kinzie's birthday in May and it fit for story reasons and stuff. I'm not the biggest fan of GOOH. On balance it does add some important stuff to my story but... meh.

2022: Start of my fanfic future section. (February) I feel like I could add more and more dates but as time goes on, the reasoning for where they're placed becomes more and more of a case of "because I said so" 🤣

[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.