Freakin' took me long enough.

This project has been stewing away for well over a year; it wasn't till I recently re-read Forever A Saint that I got inspired to once again tackle the Saints Row Universe - not to mention, tie up some very loose ends...

For anyone reading this who hasn't read ASR or FAS, this story occurs in a slight A/U (I guess by this point, very A/U) and takes place between SRtT and what would be SR4. In short, Gat's back, Killbane and Matt are dead.

And a shout out to the people who'd not forgotten to bug me while I was lost in a world of writers block; the list is a bit long to post here, so I'll just say, thank you for the encouragement! (and I hope it turns out ok)

You Either Die a Villain…

Sirens wailed, making an eerie chorus with the screams and miserable howls. The air was thick with smoke and dust as I slowly found a pathway through the smouldering rubble over the road, around burning skeletons of cars and dust-covered bodies. The sun was a red blob on the horizon, casting a vibrant, bloody light over the wreckage of the Daedelus as it creaked and sunk lower into the bay, threatening to collapse onto the docks. And around, straggling groups of people, some burned, some bleeding, all covered in that thick grey powder, shambling blindly down the street in the opposite direction to us, lost and confused. I looked up, the crimson sky obscured, and my stomach flipped.

"Jesus Christ…"

Where do you begin? Where the fuck do I begin, how do I fix this?

There was a creaking high above then a loud crumbling-

"Watch out!"

Hands grabbed my shoulders and yanked me backwards a few paces as huge chunk of concrete, metal and glass broke free of a building and plummeted to the ground and more people screamed and scattered around it. I could feel Johnny's fingers hard in my shoulders, his breaths steady at my back.

"What the fuck were they thinking…?" he murmured. I swallowed a lump; they did all this just to try and kill me? A woman stumbled past, half dragging another who's leg hung limp and bloody and I felt my hands shake. Bloody pooled from under a slab of concrete from where a body was crushed - a foot jutted out from under another.

Finally I had enough sense to get on the phone as we kept heading up the road against the thin current of people. Lines were busy, dread filling me up with each call I couldn't get through. Shaundi. Peirce. Kinzie. Angel.

"God dammit," I croaked, the dust coating the back of my throat and I coughed. Gat had strode off, inspecting rubble for survivors when finally, finally, I got a call through. It rang, and rang, and for a moment my heart sunk when no one picked up. Till finally-

"Da! Comrade!"

"Oleg!" I all but yelled, "What's happening? Where are you, who's with you-?"

"Sunset Park, we are massing people here. Is chaos-" for a moment he began talking to someone else and there was the sound of the phone changing hands.

"Boss!"

"Pierce?"

"Thank baby mother fuckin' Jesus, where are you? Is Gat-?"

"He's fine, we're both fine," I said, indicating to Gat and beckoning him to follow, "Who's there with you?"

"Kinzie, Viola… I dunno where Angel or Zimos are but- Boss, Boss I can't find Shaundi-"

Ice ran down my spine; I swallowed hard, nodding, "…Okay, listen, she's gonna be fine, she can handle herself. We're coming to the park. Put me on to Viola."

Another rattling and changing of hands.

"Talk to me."

"Viola, we're coming to the park. I need you at Safeword so we can start moving people there, the hospital is gonna be overflowing. If you find Angel, send him to Three Count, same deal."

"Understood."

"We'll be there soon."

I hung up and stared at my phone, mind working a hundred miles an hour as I tried mentally listing everything that needed to be done, where jobs needed to be allocated…

"…Hey-"

Johnny tapped me on the shoulder, looking left down the intersection. It took a moment to realise what had gotten his attention in the wreckage of Loren Square-

Till my eyes fell on the twisted shell of the black VTOL crumpled into the road. We started towards it, picking up speed till we were running and clambering over debris, as all the shock I'd felt before began giving way to rage. Cyrus, you fucking monster… The jet didn't look like anything could have survived being inside of it, asphalt crumpled up around the crushed nose that I clambered quickly onto, about to reach out and pry the windshield open, when it hit me.

This thing should have been burning. And there was no latch. And behind the dark glass, there was no cockpit. I racked my brain, my mind whirled as I clambered over the nose of the ruined, smouldering craft, trying to pry the thing open.

"What the hell?" I breathed, "What the fuck?"

Johnny was inspecting the craft with me now, when he cupped his hands onto the 'glass' to try and look inside. Finally he sat back, confused, shocked, furious.

"…It's a drone."

I snapped my head up and looked at him breathlessly.

"There aint nothin' in there!" he pressed, wringing his hands, jumping down from the craft, "It's a fucking drone!"

He punctuated his words by throwing a lump of building at the craft with so much force a crack split over the faux cockpit. I cupped my hands on the glass too, peering inside. But there was nothing. No seat, no controls, not enough space for a person to even squeeze into.

"No…"

I stared back, seeing only my horrified reflection in the glass. He was never in there? He's still out there somewhere? What if… what if he wasn't even in Steelport for the fight? That fucking, fucking-

"COWARD!" I roared, fists slamming down into the glass, into my reflection, "You fucking son of a bitch!"

I kept shouting, kept punching that glass till my reflection started to fracture and my knuckles got bloody, and Johnny's arms were tight around me, dragging me off the ruined craft.

"Stop! Stop!" he was shouting.

"I'll kill him! I'll fucking kill him!"

"Hey, look at me!" His hands were hard either side of my face, and I was forced to look into his own furious eyes, his jaw set, mouth a hard line. "We'll kill him. But right now, we got bigger things to worry about."

I had to slow my breathing, had to focus. He was right… bizarre though it was to have Gat be the voice of reason here. I closed my eyes, nodding, breathing slow and hard through my nose. The street was deserted now, every sound was distant, though there was a high pitched ringing in my ears.

"…Ok. I'm alright," I growled before looking up at the devastation all around, the red air quickly starting to fade to purple with the setting sun. We were in the centre of the destruction, so it wasn't so much walking out of Loren Square as it was climbing over crumpled buildings and edging around burning cars, skeletons smouldering inside. My phone started trilling again - I quickly pulled it out and glared at the screen.

"Looks like a pay phone number…" I answered with speaker, Gat listening in.

"Boss?"

We both nearly collapsed with relief, "Shaundi-?"

"Yeah, yeah it's me, what's going on?"

"We're on the ground, on Kings Street. Everyone's at the park. You ok?"

"I'm fine, we're up by the old PR building. Can't drive anywhere though, the roads are completely trashed. Not even emergency vehicles can get through; if I had a motorbike I'd be ok."

"Who's with you?" Gat chimed in with a frown.

"Just Birk. He's pretty shook up. We're heading down your way now."

"Alright, meet us on the corner of King and Union," I decided, "Be careful though these buildings are still falling apart."

The connection broke, and we started off again, broken glass crunching and rubble rolling under our feet.

"Surprised that asshole Birk is still breathin'," Gat chuckled darkly and I smirked, climbing slowly over crumpled bricks.

"He had Shaundi looking after him."

Johnny slid down ahead of me, "You really wanna keep him around now?"

"I dunno, Birk is kinda the last thing on my mind right now… hey, can you give me a hand?" I called out as I edged down a steel beam, shoes not finding any grip. I glanced up - he was crouched over something at the bottom. I edged lower, feeling my feet sliding. "Johnny?"

"…Yeah sure."

He stood, turning around and holding up someone's severed arm. There was a very long silence.

I burst out in guilty laughter.

At first we couldn't see them, till Birk poked his head out of a drug store and waved us over. The entire front of the store was shattered, displays smouldering and I realised with a scowl that my first great disaster was not going to involve riots and looting. Stupid responsibility…

Shaundi was inside, hunting through tins of protein formula that had fallen from the shelves and stacking them into a box. Her clothes were torn, a heel missing from one of her boots but her hair somehow relatively intact. I have no idea how she does that… she gave a relieved smile whens he looked up at us.

"I got no idea how you brought that thing down, but I'll tell ya, I'm impressed," she greeted. "Did you get that sonofabitch Cyrus?"

I ground my teeth with a fresh wave of anger, "…I don't know. We thought we had him when we shot down his VTOL but when we got on the ground, it was just a drone… I guess we won't know for sure until the day I put a bullet between his eyes, or drop him into a smelter or something…"

Shaundi snarled, swearing under her breath and throwing the tins with more force than needed and growling threats. "Pussy. When I get my hands on him…"

Gat stepped steadily over broken glass, "Y'know, not for nothin', but shouldn't we be doin' this in a jewellery store or… bank?"

Shaundi smirked, "If the crew's at the park we're gonna need supplies. Diamond bracelets don't help broken arms."

"But they to make them look better," I mused. Birk meanwhile got back to slowly working.

"Oh yeah. Disaster relief," he purred with a signature smoulder, "It's our duty to be there on the front line, with the people. Bringing hope, and healing."

Cue the collective eye roll.

"Birk, the press isn't going to be here for well over a day."

Unperturbed he pulled out his phone, quickly leaning over to Shaundi and snapping a selfie in front of the medical supplies, "That's what Twitter is for."

Shaundi shoved him in the face and stalked to the other side of the drug store, Gat shaking his head.

"And I thought I wanted Cyrus dead…"

"Surprised you're handling this so well," I said dryly, leaning on a shelf and Birk's smoulder faltered for the briefest second,

"No, no, it's really… I mean this is just like the set for Apocalypse Assassin. You know I uh, I did all my own stunts in that movie, got me nominated for a 'Splody."

"A what?"

"Explosive Action Award? It's an avant guard thing, you probably haven't heard of it."

Johnny had his eyes narrowed at the actor and something in his jaw twitched. I leant in for a second-

"…You're wishing you could slap him with that severed hand, hey?"

Gat gave a single nod. "Little bit."

"I can't believe they actually did all this…" Shaundi interjected with a sigh, as she thrust and empty basket to Josh, "I mean you'd think if they wanted to cause mass destruction they'd disguise it as a terrorist attack or something."

"They already tried that one, remember?" I asked dryly. She only cast me a dry laugh before heading out the back behind the counter for medications - she of all people would know whats what. I picked up a basket and started idly up the short aisle, scooping up painkillers and pretty much anything else without really looking; Gat meanwhile began haphazardly pulling stuff from the shelves into a basket; bandages, elastoplast, iodine, anything that looked remotely useful. Birk was mercifully silent after my last remark.

"So everyone's at the park?" Shaundi called from the back.

"I'm hoping Viola's already on her way to Safeword," I called back, "Thinkin' we can turn that and Three Count into an emergency centre. Have you heard from Angel or Zimos?"

"…No. But then I haven't been able to call anyone either."

I paused when my hands hit another shelf, neat rows of boxes staring suddenly back at me. First Response, Clear Blue, Answer…

I'd actually forgotten about it, for the past hour. It seemed like the last thing in the world I wanted to think about, or that I should be thinking about. And the truth was, amidst all the chaos, the burning buildings, the screaming people, it was the pregnancy tests on that shelf were starting to scare me.

"I think this is all we're gonna get," Shaundi called out as she strode out from the back, a large box rattling under her arm. I quickly swiped my hand out before I could be seen, shoving a narrow box into my jacket before starting back down the aisle.

"Yeah. Come on, lets get back to the crew."

Gat and Birk were the first ones out, Shaundi behind me. I heard a pause in her steps as she passed the shelf, and I swear I felt her eyes drill into the back of my head before she followed us out into the dusk.

The sky was getting darker faster than usual, with the power knocked out for several blocks and thick smoke obscuring the moon and stars. It was slow goings and took us a good block before we could find road that wasn't completely covered in rubble; there were more people on the streets now, most of them shambling the same way we were in a thin river. The noise was starting to grow, too; people, wailing sirens, the whupwhupwhup of helicopters high above. There were nearly no cars on the roads save for an emergency vehicle now and then. We kept walking into the sound of a crowd, finally turning out of Loren Square with Sunset Park before us.

It was swamped with people; crowds thick and shambling around like zombies and spilling out of the fence onto the streets. At first it seemed impossible that we'd be able to find the crew in there - till of course Johnny pointed out that we were looking for Oleg, like finding a bowling ball in a haystack. We worked our way through the crowds, the grass littered with stunned people sitting and being treated or comforted by others. An ambulance was already setting up a proper first aid station, but we held fast to our supplies; crew first.

We found Oleg and Pierce just on the other side of the water, a patch of land where Saints were starting to gravitate; Oleg was of course with Kinzie who was hunched over her laptop - she must have guarded that thing with her life. The Saints were on the ground around them, wounded, or treating the wounded, or desperately trying to place calls. Standing tall among them, Pierce was on his phone and talking quickly to someone, his bone suit a little dirty and singed but otherwise, he was intact. My heart leapt when I saw him.

"Pierce!"

He whirled on hearing his voice, nearly collapsing with manic relief when he saw us. We closed the space quickly.

"God damn you guys had me worried!" he said, "What's in the boxes?"

"Just medicine and shit for the crew," I replied quickly, "Have you caught up with anyone else? Have you found Angel and Zimos?"

At that, his face suddenly fell, and he couldn't seem to answer. A thick silence stretched.

"Pierce," I pressed, "What happened-?"

"They're here," he said quickly, but he looked ashen, "They came in on the back of one of our trucks-"

"Where are they?"

Pierce beckoned me to follow him; sparing glances to each other we dropped the boxes down and followed him to the edge of the park. By the stone wall a huge Criminal was parked with the back end opened, the purple paint scraped and peeling off the side of it. I saw Angel sitting on the back of it, face vacant and bloody as a Saint began carefully stitching his arms up. He looked up, exhausted, lips pressing into a hard line when he saw us. I looked from him, to Pierce and back, dread starting to press in on me.

"Where's Zimos?" I repeated quietly. I knew, before Pierce tried to explain, before Angel looked solemnly behind him into the covered bed of the Criminal. Crossing the short distance, my shoulders sagged; I'd let myself think for a while we'd all gotten through this, we could have all survived this year.

Zimos was laid out in the back of the tray, reverently as they could manage. His garish purple suit was torn and bloody, his sunglasses missing, a strange lump in his neck. No sign of his golden cane, but someone had laid his hat over his chest. The others began crowding around me then, looking in; Shaundi lowered her eyes and walked away a few paces, Birk following her as if she had a leash around his neck, till she shooed him away.

"We were south," Angel rumbled lowly, "STAG were trying to raise the bridges to Carver Island; we were keeping one of them open. A VTOL just swooped…"

He shook his head, frowning at the memory, "Fired off some missiles. Thought I saw Zimos thrown clear, but the way he landed… well. It was quick."

I swallowed, looking back into the truck, recognising the lump now as his broken neck, the blood having come mostly from his head. It didn't seem quite right, for him… I suppose I'd been expecting some kind of tragic sexual mishap. My hand rested on the tray and soon I felt my grip getting tighter, till my knuckles turned white. Eyes were on me; it wasn't an unfamiliar feeling. I swallowed down the lump in my throat when I realised I needed to speak. I looked over my shoulder to the crew.

"He died trying to protect what's ours. What was his," I said quietly; "But while this city is burning this is not the time to grieve… We've made it clear who owns Steelport and that we're not going anywhere. And we'll make sure it stays that way."

"For Z," Pierce voiced, and everyone consented. After a moment of quiet I continued,

"There's work to do. We need to get in touch with everyone, get the crews together," I looked to the Saints tending Angel, "See if you can have Zimos moved, we need him kept safe till we can make better arrangements."

"Yes Boss."

I closed my eyes a moment, letting the cold, steely sensation settle me. There was work to do; turning back to my Lieutenants I lifted my chin.

"Let's get back down there to the crew. We're gonna need them up and running, fast."

Dusk gave way to a hot summer night, but for every person who left the park another would arrive, the refugees drawn to the single patch of green in the steel and concrete jungle. It were as if they all craved to return to the earth, all reluctant to leave the grass and trees; few wanted to stay on the island if it meant staying in a building.

Each person, helping where they could.

I can remember the old Stilwater HQ being overrun with casualties more once; times when our safe houses had their floors littered with cots for my wounded crew. And in those moments you don't have time for ceremony, no time to wait. You picked up bandages, or needle and suture, and you did what you could, where you could. You worked. I could never remember who the people I worked on were; just the colour purple. Purple and red. They had no names or faces; they were each one more part of the one bleeding entity, the one Saint bleeding and stitching itself back together.

The purple sky turned to black with the night.

And I, covered in blood and silt, sat on the trodden grass that was now nearly mud, feeling the somehow heavy weight of the test kit hidden in my jacket. I counted out the buildings I could see from this low point that had been ruined and still blazed with fire, watched as white tent after white tent grew from the ground, casualties and wounded huddled inside.

The people of Downtown clung together in the darkness. A short way across from me, someone had the back hatch of a Halberd open, the engine puttering away as radio and news reports loudly played from the speakers.

"Initially, casualties were expected to exceed five thousand, however that number is now believed to be far greater. While some are claiming this was a blatant act of terrorism and highjacking of STAG weaponry, neither Senator Hughes nor STAG Commander Cyrus Temple, have released any statement on the attack… we have the following eye witness reports."

"They were dogfighting with the Saints, you could see. But then the ship, the big one, there were these explosions, and it just started tilting outta the sky-"

"That how you know your city's fucked, right, when a street gang is doin' more to help you than the military."

"I guess they just wanted to put a real end to it, take the city back."

"You look as shitty as I feel."

I looked up to find Shaundi standing by me. She crouched down, now barefoot, but reluctant to sit on the ground.

"It's been one long fuckin' day," I murmured, rubbing an eye. Shaundi glowered.

"You know I only just saw an actual US military chopper? They figured STAG was already here so it'd be fine."

"Or maybe they just don't want to believe a Senator would green light massacring an island of people," I growled, "Not a gang, the civilians." I shook my head, suddenly frustrated, "I'm supposed to be the bad guy here, right?"

Shaundi blinked at me, then almost chuckled, "Not in this situation."

"But they're gonna make me the bad guy anyway, right? This-" I waved a hand out to the burning city, my blood starting to boil, "This here, is bullshit. They're gonna level half an island and pretend to be the good guys. At least I don't lie when I act like a psychopath."

"Why are you so surprised?" Shaundi asked, her arms folding, "It's always been like that, kings and emperors and presidents, they're the same as you. The only difference is they don't break the law, they use it to fuck everyone sideways."

Across the lawn, the Halberd was still pounding out the news reports. So-and-So reporting. Eye witnesses. Statistics. I glared at the burning city.

"We're looking at heading home," Shaundi said, taking a step towards me, "Zimos is being taken to Steelport M, Kinzie wants to get back to her warehouse. I'm thinking' we head back to Burns Hill. Most of the injured Saints are there, no civilians."

I nodded, when it very suddenly occurred to me that Trouble was there, and had to be fed, poor kitten. Of course as much as I loved the big boof-head, there was one more pressing matter that needed clearing up.

"Alright. But we gotta make a quick detour on the way."

It wasn't the first time I'd been in the Channel 6 Station; this time was a little less bloody though. Johnny, Pierce, Shaundi, and even Kinzie trailed in my wake; if guards tried to stop us it was only briefly lest they be quickly incapacitated, so we were given a fairly wide berth by anyone else as we quickly navigated the building.

"So, any idea what you're gonna say?" Pierce asked, nonchalant once we had piled into an elevator. I twisted my lips with a hint of nerves.

"I think so. Though there's a good chance I'll just end up on air and broadcast five straight minutes of cussing."

"Eh, I'd watch it."

Level five opened straight into the studio with the news desk in the far corner, brilliantly lit in the darkness and Jane Valderama speaking steadily to a camera. I unhooked my SMG.

"-While the Government has yet to comment on the attack, we have a report."

BRRT BRRRT!

People screamed and hit the floor as plaster dropped down from the bullet holes in the ceiling, and my lieutenants split, Gat and Pierce on the news crew and Shaundi heading for the bio box with Kinzie.

"No one runs, no one gets shot, understand?" I announced, and there were some timid nods. Jane stumbled back as I approached but I waved her down, "Just gimme some air time," I told her, and she glanced awkwardly to the crew and nodded. I took my place on set, the bright lights suddenly blinding; some woman snuck up and quickly tried to powder my face, just as the camera swung onto me, and a little red light turned green. The scared cameraman nodded.

Live on air. Here we go.

"I got a message for Monica Hughes and her stooges," I started, seething and impatient rage suddenly bursting forth:

"Dear BITCH, Steelport is under new management, and we don't answer to you. This is foreign soil now. Come at my city again, and you'll go home in a fucking box!" I spat, jabbing a finger to the camera. Feeling a little better, I relaxed, nodding politely to Jane.

"Back to you."

With that, I stepped down off the set, the boys let go of their hostages, and the girls stepped out of the booth.

"Y'know I was expecting that to be longer," Shaundi teased as we strode across the studio. Pierce laughed.

"Hey I didn't think you were bad. Could be a weatherman or some shit."

"I may have laid it on a little thick…"

"Nah, straight and to the point," Johnny said, slinging an arm over my shoulder, "It's effective. Like a hammer to the face."

"Well you did just create a city-state," Pierce warned me, and I felt a smirk about my mouth.

"Good point."

Morning light crept in over the bed, orange instead of soft white. Outside the window there was still a thin haze of smoke, even all the way here at Burns Hill. Johnny was splayed out next to me, half dressed and utterly dead to the world, our feet kept warm by Trouble draped over the end of the bed. The tiger lifted his head sleepily when I stirred, a purr rumbling in his chest before he flopped back down.

I hadn't slept much; my body was starting to ache from the day before and my mind was swarming with everything that had happened the past twenty four hours. I thought I'd had a handle on everything; suddenly the future was muddled and murky. Guess I'd just have to take it all day by day.

There was, though, one more thing… one more variable. I looked over to where my jacket had been dumped by the door, a lump in the breast pocket. Quietly as I could, I slipped out of bed (as Trouble belly-crawled onto my spot) and retrieved it, creeping quietly across the carpet and into the ensuite.

The door clicked closed behind me softly, and I leant on it for a while, before reaching into my jacket and pulling out the test kit I'd been carrying around in the inside pocket.

"…No time like the present," I muttered, staring at it. "Just pee and wait for it to turn up negative."

My heart thumped a little harder, and I took the test.

Two minutes.