Hey guys, welcome to my first ever SR fanfic. This was originally going to be a series of one shots that spanned SR1, 2 and 3rd, but It kind of just kept growing so I think I might split this up over a few stroies. I wanted to write a fict based on a female protagonist, and her story from SR1, how she grows and becomes the ass kciker she is in SR3rd.
I've tried to restrict just doing transcripts of cutscenes and include new stuff that happened inbetween. Sooo... yeah.
Haven't written anyting in a while so any feedback would we great. Enjoy :)
My hands shook and rattled the last wisp of smoke from the gun. My cheeks felt tacky and saturated with tears as I watched Seth, a hand clutched over his chest, eyes bulging in shock and horror watching the blood seeping from between his fingers and under his palm. He shuddered, legs collapsing beneath him as he slid down the wall tracing a smear of crimson on the filthy paint behind him. I swallowed and watched the blood pool in the bullet hole in the plaster. I'd shot through him?
Seth sputtered, brilliant green eyes – which I had once thought so full of danger and passion – were now foreign and alien to me. Hollow and vacant, the eyes of a junkie. Blood sprayed from between his lips as he snarled and spat his last word at me.
"Whore."
A felt a white hot flash of fury and before I knew what I was doing, my trigger finger squeezed sharply, once, twice, again and again till the empty clip clicked dispassionately at me. Most of the shots had missed, bar two. One hit him in the shoulder, the other found a disturbing mark in his eye, spraying the wall behind and pouring blood and other… lumps… down his face.
I stared at him, my mind blank. I exhaled a breath I didn't know I'd been holding then rocked forward and retched over the filthy threadbare carpet.
Thankfully, the first kill is always the easiest.
An hour later and I was sitting on the floor of the shower, trying to get my head straight.
I should feel sorry. I should feel horrified. I killed someone. No, not just someone, my boyfriend. The guy I loved, who said he loved me, who said he wanted to marry me and die by my side.
He said a lot of things…
I was a fucking killer, a murderer, and for the rest of my life I always would be. But something was echoing in my mind,
He had it coming…
A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. I didn't feel sorry, I felt powerful. I felt like, for the first time in my life I was in charge, of myself, my destiny, and of someone else's. I pictured Seth's face, with the bullet hole where his right eye should have been. I thought on what he had done to me, how he had lied to me, what life he had brought me into. That face morphed to my father's, my mothers, and melted into a myriad of others.
The pipes rattled the water pressure shuddered as the heat finally failed, raining down a cold blast on my shoulders. I yelped, woken from my stupor, and quickly reached to turn the taps off. Enough. Time to get moving.
'I have nowhere to go,' I thought, mind suddenly pragmatic. Obviously no neighbour has called the cops, but in a neighbourhood like this gunfire was a constant backtrack to everyday life. 'But I can't stay,'
There was every chance one of his 'friends' could be dropping by at any moment. I scrambled from the shower floor, rubbing my body dry with a hand towel (all the bath towels currently covering pools of blood and vomit). With a sigh I looked at myself in the mirror, milky skin now ashen, dark circles under my icy blue eyes, and ran a hand through my cropped black hair.
'I liked my long hair…' I thought with a pout. Seth had made me saw it off when we came to Stillwater. I shaped it as best I could but never managed to get it looking more feminine.
Suddenly I heard a door click open –
"Seth, yo man, where a-"
Fuck! One of his friends, they sounded hammered but considering the circumstances that wouldn't matter. I launched myself on a pile of clothes left in a heap on the bathroom floor, snagging a pair of baggy jeans and plain black shirt, yanking them over my half-dry body.
"Seth? You home or… oh SHIT!"
Time's up. I grabbed my sneakers and bra, gripping the laces and straps between my teeth as I made a moved for the window, pushing it open and squeezing my scrawny frame through it – a task made easier from having lived on Seth's diet of beer and cocaine for the past six months. I tumbled to the ground, jumping to my feet and dashing through the small yard, clambering over chain link fences till I hit the street.
Then, I just kept running. I ran till I breathed fire and my feet bled over the asphalt. I rushed past people, not caring if I shoved them out of the way, not caring when a trio clad in red yelled insults and threats after me. Soon I was clear of Shivington, stumbling through an alley in the Red Light district, crumpling to my knees in the rubbish and cardboard boxes, chest heaving. My throat burned and my eyes watered from the cold wind, I felt my vision swimming in front of me. I think I should have been crying but I didn't seem to have it in me.
In one short night I had shattered and was reborn here, in this filthy fucking alley, wearing my dead boyfriend's clothes, no home, no friends, no money, no ID. I was tangible, but somehow I didn't exist. I'd probably wind up one of those nameless, faceless hobos that were found frozen under bridges in the winter.
In a week this fact would be strangely liberating, but at the moment I just felt hopeless.
Two nights later and I was sauntering down a street in The Row. I'd managed to steal a little food to keep myself going but it didn't change my situation. I was just grateful none of Seth's old friends had managed to find me.
A hooker in red draped herself in a doorway, sneering at the back of a John who passed her by.
"Hey hun," she said sweetly to me (no doubt noticing my bedraggled appearance), "Don't suppose you lookin' for work?"
I blinked – no, I wasn't. But the proposition gave me thought; what was I going to do for money?
"Oh hell no!"
My head snapped around as I heard the voice – it was frighteningly familiar, and for a moment I thought it was someone looking for me. Instead, I saw three thugs dressed in yellow, snarling and waving at a large Rollerz tag on the wall.
"Man, fuck the Rollerz," Another continued. The one in the middle… the familiar one, turned to the thug on his left.
"Lavar, you gonna let those bitches disrespect us?"
"Shit, whatchoo think?" The one named Lavar replied, rattling a spray can and starting to paint the wall.
'Vice Kings' I thought, and bit my lip. I'd only had one, far too intimate encounter with the VK before. Around me people were discreetly vacating the area – live in Stillwater long enough and you get a sixth sense about these things.
But I was busy trying to place the guy in the middle, not wanted to admit to myself where I had seen him before, when three guys dressed in blue staunched up to the others who were busy spraying over the tag.
"Tha fuck you think you doin'?" One of the Rollerz accused. The VK turned to look at them darkly.
"Just being civic-minded is all," one replied.
"That so?"
"Yeah, some dumbass cracker went and shit all over this wall, we just cleanin' it up."
And the thin string holding them all back snapped. The Rollerz threw the first punch but then it was a mess of fists and knives. I edged backwards, the hooker next to me too scared to move. One of the Rollerz took a heavy hit from a VK, and valiantly ran away, abandoning his friends and shoving past me. I heard the roar of a car engine the same moment the bangers did, pausing in their melee as a red convertible rolled round the corner, three Carnales narrowing their eyes and pulling bandanas up over their faces.
"Hector says Buenos noche." The driver sneered, levelling an SMG at them. Suddenly, the air was filled with gunfire, the VKs and Rollerz taking cover where they could, the two that weren't hit drawing their weapons and returning fire. The Carnales tried to speed away, but the Roller who had run before came racing back, drawing his gun and firing at the car. A bullet found the driver's head, exploding out the front of his skull and spraying the windshield with blood and brain. The car turned sharply and headed towards me, swerving at the last second and crashing into a wall. The engine starting to smoke, then a few small flames flickered from beneath the hood. A Carnale coughed and groaned, pulling himself from the wreckage and laying on the ground, trying to pull himself up.
As suddenly as it started the noise stopped. I found myself on the ground, frozen in shock. The Roller sauntered up to the car, levelling his gun and firing, only to have the last standing VK shoot him in the head from behind. His body crumpled forwards in front of me, and I looked up to the VK, who was now approaching me, lifting his gun to my face. I looked up the barrel, up his arm to his face and couldn't deny it any more. The same chocolate skin, smooth features, clean shaven head, black eyes. I felt my face crease into a scowl.
"You…" I barely breathed. Whether he heard me or not, recognised me or not, didn't matter.
"Wrong time, wrong place bitch." He spat, cocking his gun.
I slammed my eyes shut and heard a shot. But no impact, no pain. I blinked my eyes open again, staring at the VK, now face down on the pavement, a crimson pool spreading from a gunshot wound in his back.
"You ok playa?"
I looked up to the voice, deep and soothing, steady. The man was middle aged, black, and dressed a little too well for the Row. His shirt was a bright shade of purple, just like the guy standing behind him. I racked my brain – red was Los Carnales, Blue, Rollerz, and Yellow Vice Kings.
Purple, I recalled, were Saints. Some small time bangers from The Row without any real foothold, the only reason I was remembering the name was because it was such an ironic one.
But as I looked at the man who was now reaching down to offer me a hand, to lift me up to my feet, the idea of being a Saint did not seem so ironic.
"Julius, let's move," the guy standing behind him said. He looked weirdly clean cut to be in a gang, but as I noticed the smoking gun in his hand, I realised he must have been the one who saved me.
I reached up and took Julius' hand, only just realising the pain in my leg as he pulled me up and let me lean on him as we hobbled away. The car behind us finally caught fire and as quickly, the engine exploded, blasting a shockwave at my back. We didn't move far before Julius gingerly sat me down against a wall, and I finally looked at my leg, seeing the torn fabric and blood starting to spill. As soon as I noticed it, the pain began and I realised with a wave of panic I must have been shot.
"That doesn't look so bad, you should be fine," Julius said. I must have looked pale, but looking down at my leg again I realised the wound was actually just a nick – the bullet had only grazed me.
"That's Troy," Julius continued, nodding to the man standing behind him, "You can thank him later."
"Hey," Troy greeted with a small nod.
"The Row ain't safe no more girl." Julius continued, drawing my attention back to him, "We got gangs fightin' over shit that 'aint theirs, and if you get in the way, they don't care if you representin' or not."
I blinked. His heavy hand on my shoulder was reassuring, and his words were actually hinting of concern. I couldn't remember the last time someone had worried about me, and this guy was a total stranger. 'He wants something from you' a dark voice warned in the back of my mind. So had a lot of people, but they'd never tried to help me before.
"Julius, this is no time to be recruiting." Troy urged. Julius scowled and looked over his shoulder to Troy.
"We need all the help we can get son." He fired back.
"No, we need to get our asses out of here."
"In a minute!" Julius commanded. He again turned his attention to me. "Look, the Row's got a problem. Come to the church if you want to be a part of the solution."
He gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder and stood, striding away. He seemed so… regal. It was no surprise people were answering to him. My eye caught Troy's – he was giving me a weird look, concern maybe, or pity. He turned on his heel and followed Julius.
So there it was, the yes or no. Considering I had absolutely nothing to lose, my answer was obvious.
Ok! next chapter should be up and ready to go soon :)