Zinyak frowned at the sight displayed before him. In prototype body armor, the Boss of the Saints Row stood upon the now decapitated body of the virtual Zin leader. Zinyak's simulated head was held high in the air by the Saint, the spine trailing below the skull.
Had Zinyak not just witnessed the fall of his empire under the will of the Saints, he would not have believed it. It was under his advisors influence that Zinyak should further study their puckish leader, and moreover, from seeing the rise of a simple street gang to worldwide celebrities, it was time to take action.
First was to dispose of Jonny Gat. He was too strong, too unpredictable, and would be a hindrance to Zinyak's greater plan. However, the results of removing Jonny were not what Zinyak had expected. Instead of crippling the Saints, it only served to make them stronger, more resolved. Global celebrities became global heroes; the Saints could prove unstoppable. This surprising result forced Zinyak's hand. He would remove the greatest threat of them all, the Boss of the Third Street Saints.
Like Jonny, making the Boss disappear was easy − all it took was a moment away from his lieutenants, his public, alone really. Zinyak would deprive them of their leader, their hero. However, unlike Jonny who was still reliving his own internal hell, the Boss was not so easily contained within the simulator.
At first, the simulations were as they always had been a prison of their occupants' worst fears. For the Boss it had been a rendition of the 1950's American Dream. White picket fences, everyone being neighborly to everyone… a living hell to the Boss's chaotic nature. But, a prison of pleasantry and order could never hold the Boss forever.
In the many attempts to preserve itself, the simulation would eject the Boss – should he come close to destroying the delicate balance that held the simulator processes. The Zin had to remake the simulator repeatedly, each iteration more bizarre than the last. Each required erasing the previous mistakes from the Boss' mind and trying again. It had been the largest undertaking the Zin ever attempted. Many had doubts of their great leader; thinking that it would have been easier to just kill the Saint. Many had also suddenly been ejected into space for such doubts.
They just did not understand the greater scheme of things. With their leader dead, the Saints would rise up into an unrelenting force, and the supposed death of Jonny Gat and the vengeance brought upon Phillipe Loren was proof enough. But with only the disappearance of their precious Boss, there would still be some hope to try to save him. It was this hope that would make them vulnerable. This was Zinyak's gamble and this reasoning made the Boss of the Saints Row an invaluable pawn in the times ahead.
Roughly, four Earth years ago, Zinjai had finally composed something to take on the challenge of keeping the Boss… preoccupied. It started simply. Zinjai's creation tapped into the Boss' subconscious. It fed on the Boss' doubts of Cyrus, and played with his ego eventually making him President of the United States. It was thought that the leader would have been happy with merely being President of the country he so treasured. And it seemed to have succeeded for three years, but the Boss still possessed a hunger. The simulation sensed it. It created an additional AI program to mimic Zinyak himself. And it proved to be an accurate imitation, though a bit flippant for Zinyak's taste. The AI designed a plot to further push the Boss deeper within its programming. To create a simulation within the virtual simulation as it were.
But staring at the display before him, Zinyak knew that like the many before it, this plot had failed. The Boss had broken the AI and should the simulation try to force him deeper again might make this whole endeavor a failure. For now, Zinyak would let the Boss do as he wished with what remained of the simulation. Regardless, it had bought Zinyak enough time to set his larger plans into motion. There was something about "Enter the Dominatrix" and "How the Saints Saved Christmas" that still remained in the events bank of the simulation, how quaint.
Still there was a silver lining. An unexpected advantage that the simulation provided. Its capacity for strategic planning. It allowed him a glimpse into the thinking processes of those that remained on Earth, prying into the Boss' knowledge of his followers in turn aiding Zinyak's generals. For some reason, the Boss thought highly of Kinzie and Matt for their technical skills. When the invasion finally started those two would need to be monitored closely. The others appeared as no consequence, but they too would be watched. He would interfere only when necessary.
His virtual empire bowing to their new steel clad leader brought Zinyak back from his reminiscing. The current simulation so far had proved the most promising. The Boss' subconscious had yet to doubt his current 'reality'. Was it the promise of unlimited power that enticed him? The Saint continued intrigued Zinyak. The human was like a mirror image to his own person, even down to sharing an interest in the works of Jane Austen. Had the Saint been born a Zin, Zinyak would have been sure to personally dispose of him.
He tapped the arm of his throne with a black claw. "Zinjai?" He called.
In an annoying almost sniveling manner, Zinjai came up to him from the shadows. "Yes, your Excellency?" Zinjai, once a proud scientist, reduced to meek lump - all due to spending just a fraction of time in his own creation.
"How far are we with the preparations?" He had waited, and was growing ever more impatient with how long the preparations for the invasion were taking.
"Just about finished, your Excellency. We are waiting our forces from the Gamma quadrant. It should be only of matter of hours." Zinjai rung his hands, flinching at every motion that Zinyak made.
"Good, good. You are dismissed." With a wave, Zinjai disappeared back to whatever hole he had crawled out of. Zinyak leaned backwards. His head propped up on one muscled arm, while the other continued to rest along the arm of his throne. There was a smile on his thin lips.
So it begins.