Mini Author's Note: Hello everyone, this is my first SR Story, and.. My first story in quite some time. Cut me a little slack, I'm trying to get back in the swing of this entire "writing" concept. Had some free time, and this is the result. Let me know what you think!
WARNINGS:
-Naughty Language. Plenty of it.
-OOC Characters! (I'm sorry about this, but I like to think this is my version of them. Y'know?)
-SOME Spoilers!
-No Beta, and shitty format. Let's do this.
I should probably have more warnings. A lot more. However, the above warnings are a generalization for the story. As in, they'll apply overall. I'll have warnings specific for each chapter.
Disclaimer: I do not, I will not, nor have I ever owned more than a copy of the game.
Specific Chapter Warning:
Violence, Sadness, and drunk Saints.
This was a mistake on my part, really.. Starting off like this. I PROMISE, other chapters WILL be more humorous and less angsty. This'll be as bad as it gets, I swear. I'm sorry for the drama, Haha.
Chapter One: Drink away Dreams
Boss/Karina POV.
I ran. Something that I should have been used to by now.
Regardless of how hurried my footsteps were, the pounding of heels upon pavement couldn't compare to the heart currently slamming against my sternum. The rain fell in horizontal sheets, quickly drenching the purple top the I had so carefully selected earlier today. Altogether, I was soaked, but the only liquid that mattered right now was the obscure amount of blood seeping out of the battered body that laid on the street before me. I was late. I was too fucking late.
No matter how quickly I ran, it was in vain. I had relived this memory a thousand times, if not more. The worst part about a nightmare, was knowing it was a nightmare. That ultimately, I was unable to take control and unable to awaken.
I had gone over every potential outcome, but the ending never changed. I'd inevitably get to his side, and as expected, he wouldn't speak. How the fuck could he? There wasn't enough of his face left to form a coherent sentence even if were able to muster more than a few pained whimpers. The words of Julius came back to haunt me, as they always seemed to when I hit my lowpoints. "Don't you get it, the Saints didn't solve a godamned thing. Drugs were still being pushed. Innocent people were still getting killed." As peachy as his monologue had been, Julius found his play cut short- Lincoln style.
At the time, I told him he was wrong, that I had woken up. But could I really deny that he hadn't planted a seed of doubt? Even after all this time, Julius still fucking owned me. Staring at Carlos, whom I was still advancing towards, it hit me in the most painful way possible.
Innocent people were still getting killed.
Great time to grow a fucking conscience. In truth, it was hard not to at the time. Carlos wasn't a saint with a lowercase S, not by any standards. I mean, he was in prison before even I was. That alone should say something, but nonetheless he could've had a future.
He wasn't a banger, something that was reflected in nearly everything he did. Carlos was quiet, but not in the way that I had been as freshblood. He was quiet in an observational way, I was just a cocky fuck who bit back retorts to the best of her abilities. I spoke only when the barrier between my thoughts and mouth had been broken, when I truly couldn't bite back a particularly feisty comment. At least when I was new. I figured the same would happen for Carlos, that he'd grow into whatever expectations had been preset by his brother. He was a legacy, after all. If his brother had the balls, I thought it'd just take time.
I pushed him.
I corrupted him.
I was familiar with this nightmare, as previously mentioned. As if clockwork, I dropped to my knees beside him, grasping the male by his shoulders and turning him over. Carlos moaned in pain, a heart wrenching sound that fell forth from his bloodied lips. At least, I think they were his lips. "Shit, shit, shit," I chanted, "I'm so fucking sorry." At the time I had been referring to the pain that I unintentionally inflected upon him while attempting to transition his body. I wouldn't start really apologizing until he was gone. Carlos was still bound by the chain that filthy bitch had used to drag him like a dog, which, had somehow been attached to the bumper. Standing, I hurried over to the vehicle in a blind fury, my entire body shaking with rage. Repeatedly I brought my heeled boot down upon the hunk of wielded metal, praying to whatever god existed that it'd give.
It wasn't the first time my prayers went unanswered.
That's when I truly started to panic, a paralyzing sensation of helplessness flooding through my body as my blood ran cold. Ice overtook my body, oddly reminding me of that time I had been dumped in the ocean with Lin beside me. The water had been so fucking cold.
Again, I fell to my knees, not even attempting to call for help. Carlos couldn't be moved, his body wouldn't survive much more. The abuse he had taken was a type of handiwork I hadn't seen in a very long time. That's mostly because it's morbidly grotesque and impersonal. "Carlos," I started, surprised to hear how strangled my voice sounded, "Don't move, man. I've got you. Stay with me." I had such faith. Surely, he'd pull through it, and this would just be one fucked up memory we'd tell over a couple beers and a handful of playing cards. That's when things changed, the script going askew.
Carlos gazed at me through heavily lidded eyes, his breathing haggard and forceful as it escaped in weak puffs into the chilled air. "W-why?" I felt my own eyes widen as the shock set in, a newfound hope stirring in my chest. If he could talk, what else could he do?
"Carlos, can you stand?" I asked, once again grabbing at his absurdly icy hand. If he confirmed my inquiry, I'd gladly pull him up. Sure, it'd hurt like a bitch.. and we'd still have to deal with the chain, but I could only tackle this challenge one step at a time. "J-just.. leave me to die, bitch." He growled, a mixture of saliva and blood dribbling down his cracked lips. I didn't take it to heart. I've been called worse, and he was clearly in pain. I did my best to tug him into an upright position, but for a dying man, Carlos still had a lot of strength in him. "Leave me like Lin.. Too bad this isn't as theatric as Aisha.."
His words felt like a slap, I reeled backwards as if I had been struck. How did he know any of these things? Normally, I could let just about anything roll off my back. I get dealt this shit on a daily basis, it kind of came with the job. Hell, there was a point where I couldn't even go outside without some asshole jeering at me, or getting something thrown at my car. But hearing it from Carlos.. felt foreign.
Felt personal on a different level that I hadn't even known existed. My rational side took into consideration the circumstances, and personally I probably wouldn't be Miss Kindness right now either.
I pulled out my phone, trying to ignore the uncertain tremor that caused my fingers to twitch. I groaned as the shitty device displayed an empty battery with a lightning bolt through it. It had enough power to show that animation, but not enough to let me make an emergency call? The only thing that prevented me from throwing it was that I needed the contacts it held.
"This is how it always ends, isn't it? The infamous Leader, doing whatever it takes to come out on top. Not caring who dies in the crossfire. Expecting people to die for their beloved boss.. When they don't even know her name. Sweet little Karina Ba-"
"Don't you fucking dare." I felt the words fall forth from my lips as a guttural growl, enraged at the very mention of my own name. I felt compelled to cut him off. Karina I could live with, even if it stung.. But if he even tried to associate me with that scumbag…
"Typical. Daddy issues, right?" Now he was just mocking me. Daring me to lift the muzzle of my gun, compelling me to send a bullet through his skull. My own selfishness had kept him alive this long, in truth. The cruel taunts that came from what I assumed was his mouth, was only a personification of the pain in his eyes. "You don't have to.." I choked back what felt like a sob, but it couldn't be. I never cried during this part. "I'll do it."
"Don't you get it?" He started, as I took aim, my hands quivering violently. I hadn't shook like this since my first day on the streets. Unfazed, Carlos glared down barrel of my gun, "You didn't solve a godammed thing. Drugs will always be pushed.. Innocent people will always get killed."
I couldn't save him, so I did the one thing I do best.
I pulled the trigger.
As I fell to my knees, I cast Carlos one last glance. He lay still, finally at peace with whatever had troubled him in his last moments. His ordinarily tanned skin was hardly recognizable, the flesh tainted with large splotches of green and golden hued bruises with the occasional bloodied laceration to accompany them. There were parts on his body where the bone had punctured through, jagged and startlingly white in contrast with the red. Feeling bile creep up my throat, I had little choice but to turn away, my eyes shut tightly.
I pushed him.
I corrupted him.
I killed him.
-Third Person POV.-
"Jesus fucking Christ, can't a man get sleep around here?" Came the familiar voice of none other than Johnny, who had no problem throwing open Karina's bedroom door, despite the fact that it had been locked.
Karina, or more commonly known as the Boss, sat upright in bed. Her throat felt raw, and her body constricted. The purple sheets of pure silk entangled her lower body, somewhat damp from the sweat produced during her nightmare. Out of pure reflex, Karina shot out of bed with the speed of a startled cat, snatching her gun off the nightstand and had it raised before Johnny could complete his sentence.
"Put the gun down, Boss. Here I was thinking you were getting murdered or some shit, come in to you.." He scowled, advancing forward after flicking on the light switch. "...Did you piss the bed?"
"What? No.. Fuck you. Just.. a dream. That's all."
"Oh man. I know the feeling. Had one of those a couple nights ago, was in a strip club and this girl with gian-" He teased, knowing all too well the type of dream Boss was referring to, having had more than his fair share.
"Not that kind of dream. Jesus, Johnny." She muttered darkly before kicking off what remained of her sheets, thankful that she had the common sense to wear clothing to bed. Not that it would have phased him, but Karina had enough embarrassment for the night. They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a moment, his large figure leaning against the doorframe in his nonchalant way. "You look like you could go for a drink."
"You know me so well."
A few bottles and hours later, the two Saints were sufficiently wasted, having emptied an entire liquor cabinet on their own.
"Shaundi's g-gonna be sooo pissed," Karina hiccuped, stirring a fizzy purple concoction around in her glass. Johnny had discarded his glass a while ago, opting to drink straight from the bottle. The pair may or may not have in their haste to get trashed, consumed a certain bottle of champaign that Shaundi had been saving for a special occasion.
As if he hadn't heard Karina speak, Johnny had become focused upon his beverage, sobering slightly. Metaphorically, of course, because it was doubtful that either of them would be actually sober for a bare minimum of three hours. A moment later, the Saint's boss shrugged before rectifying her own concerns. "Eh, fuck it. If she really didn't want anyone to touch it, she should'a kept it at her place."
"You, my friend, are very right. Very right, and very drunk."
Karina raised her glass, offering a coy smile, "Two of my favorite things to be."
The pair sat in silence, allowing a certain easiness to settle in the space between their conversation.
"You know, you were bitchin' about your name."
"So the fuck what?" Karina retorted with an indignant snort, throwing her legs up onto the table so she could recline slightly.
"Surprisingly girly, y'know?"
"What'd you expect?" The young woman mused, surprisingly unfazed. Had it of been anyone else, had it not been Johnny.. Perhaps her reaction would have been more defensive. However, the two had been riding together long enough that this "big reveal" probably would have been inevitable anyway. Not waiting for a response, Karina staggered to her feet, beverage forgotten.
As she began to make her exit, most likely towards a sleeping surface of some sort, Johnny held out his hand to stop her. "No last name?"
In that elusive way that was exclusive to only her, Karina smiled;
"You'll have to wait for the next nightmare for that one, Gat."
Larger Author's Note: The first chapter is always the worst, I promise. It'll get better. I hope.
Her name for the sake of this story is Karina Bailey. A shoutout to one of my favorite voice actors, I had the twisted version of Carlos allude to her last name.
I really am not a fan of this chapter, but it had to be done. I just really love the idea of their friendship, Haha. I've been using a "Word randomizer" for my plots.. This chapter's word was: Nightmare.
Thank you for reading, stay tuned for more fun.
~Zesaille.