Disclaimer: I don't own Saints Row, or any product mentioned in this fan-fiction! Just my boss, Roquelle De'Mure!
What's up, my beautiful Pika's! So I just finished replaying all of the Saints Row series again until Number five comes out sometime this year or next...it will happen won't it? Anyway, since this is just a little test to see how much I know my Saints Row I'mma just use this as a little test drive! Or maybe I could just start from the very beginning with my boss' life before the Saints and how I think it went! I'm also changing ages, so Pierce isn't in his early twenties in the story! Capiche? Get it, got it, good!
=.=
I'm always questioned about my past. By the press, during interviews, even by Zinyak. I never understood why anyone would want to know about the shitty childhood of a twenty-three year old gang-leader. I don't even think anybody would care enough to listen to that long ass story. I mean who would? It'd be starting when a sixteen year old Frenchie was sent to a Juvenile Detention Center for robbing a convenient store at gun-point, nearly being killed in her cell by two guards, and being released for my good behavior two and a half years later. Being sent to live with her grandmother in Steelport, because of a fight that had gotten out of control because of a hat that was snagged off of her head because she was trying to cover the bruises and scars that never healed from her time spent in juvi. It'd end when she met a boy, they'd gotten together, she'd been dumb and gotten pregnant at seventeen and had to abort the child, and he left her for another girl. It'd end when she finally began her silent facade and joined a gang, the Third Street Saints, was what it was called. But of course all of you want to hear it from the very very beginning, in vague detail, huh? Well, lets get this shit over with.
=Third Person POV=
Fourteen-year-old Roquelle De'Mure stood in the alleyway behind her home in Diego Martin, Trinidad. Her heart raced as she was cornered by a group of boys and girls, who wore a look of malice and anger on their faces. They began pushing her around, their cold fingers coming into contact with her body, leaving small bruises on her forearms. Her screams were never heard, as she yelped loud enough for people within another part of the large city to hear, yet no one came to help her. It was funny how things worked out there. A woman could be getting butchered and no one would give a damn about her well being. That was just how it was in her city. But this was different, these other children that were looming over her with malicious smiles on their faces planned on beating her face in beyond any recognition, and for what? She didn't know what she did, Was it because she had the IQ of a college professor? Or was it because she didn't have to say a thing to get the attention of others. She never knew and she never cared. This was different though, she couldn't fight back against these kids, hell no one could! She felt a hand connect with her cheek in a harsh slap, her eyes widening from the stinging pain that had found its way to the bruising area. That's when she snapped, she didn't know how or why but she'd hit the girl whom slapped her. Her first connected with the females jaw, sending her tumbling to the ground with a loud thump! She stared in shock as the girl gave a strangled cry, before smiling like a mad woman and pouncing on the scared offender. Her fist slammed into the girls nose, mouth, cheek, anything that came into view Roquelle pounded on it with her fist not stopping until she felt her hands being smudged by the girls blood, and her vision went from red to blurry, in a flash.
She bounded off the girl, who was now sobbing into her hands, her salty tears mixing in with the blood that seeped from her, now, broken nose, her split lips, and her eyebrow. Roquelle gathered her backpack off the ground, before looking at the others who were helping the beaten girl up and walking away to the local corner store. Trying to get the sight of seeing another person in pain out of her head, she turned the corner and made a mad dash to her families corner store. Her brother, Alejandro, sat in on of the chairs in front of small store backpack slung over his shoulder and flip-phone in his lap. She came to a halt in front of him, screaming for his help, "Alejandro, I didn't mean to do it! I swear I don't know what happened-!" She was cut off by her brother standing and towering over her concern built in his gaze.
"What, Rocky, what the hell happened? What did you do?" He asked as he grabbed her hands that had been shaking viciously ever since she came home. "Shit, Rocky, what did you do?" He examined her cheek and arms, before pulling her into the store and calling for their parents, "Dad! Mom! There's something wrong with Rocky!" The adults came bursting from around the counter, to the girls side.
"Rocky, oh my god, what happened?!" Her father exclaimed dragging her into the restroom and washing the flaky mess that dried on her hands, and became a rust orange. "I hit her, papa. I promise I didn't do it on purpose, it just happened. She'd hit me first and I snapped!"The girl stuttered out as fresh tears found themselves traveling down her cheeks, hitting the fresh tile under her converse clad feet. Her father stared in shock, "Let me see your face Roquelle." He demanded, concerned for her well-being. She silently craned her neck so he could see the fresh bruise forming. Sighing, he wrapped his arms around the sobbing girl, and pulled her close to him.
"Octavia, come here please!"He called to his wife who'd been pacing the floor, whilst chewing on her thumb nail and furrowing her brows. She perked up at the sound of her husbands voice and rushed into the restroom, removing her apron in the process. "Raphael, what happened to her?" She asked to the man who was now cradling the girl. She'd fallen asleep in his arms, her tear streaked face coming into view. "I-I don't know Octavia, but I intend to find out when she wakes up." He muttered under his breath as he stood and carried the girl up the stairs and into the apartments above the shop. Opening her room door, he laid the girl down onto the bed and loomed over her for a second.
=(^.^)=
"I always had a passion for singing and playing piano. It was as if I was supposed to do that instead of joining the Saints."
-Roquelle Demure; twenty-one years old; to Pierce Washington
Okay my sweet cheeks that was all for Chapter one! I think I did really good on the first chapter, don't you? If you said no well then, screw you! That's all folks until tomorrow after I finish updating my Dance Central fan-fiction, Closer Together and that's when I'll be back! I just thought of trying something new for right now! Anyway have a nice and lovely night and I wish you all the best!
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