Ahh, new story! I'm not going to say much here as to not clog the space up. I'm just going to use this space for general warnings in the chapter, so if you don't want spoilers I'd suggest skipping this. Like I say in every story this is posted on my ao3 and tumblr as well.

~Warnings~
just gun violence and cursing for this one

Crisp, November air nipped at the exposed skin of their face, making them wish that there was a way of wearing a ski mask without looking like a murderer or thief. This cold season was really kicking their ass. Being from a desert where the day temperature never dropped below 70°F didn't leave them prepared to deal with negative temperatures.

They trudged down cracked sidewalk. Their only thought was a simple 'I really want to go home.' It hadn't been a good day and they just wanted to sleep it off. Plus, they had a meeting with a very important art dealer the next day. Sleep was in their best interest.

"Tch, look at this fuckin' trash." Sasori looked up, expecting the comment to be directed at them. It wasn't. A group of four individuals wearing spiked, leather jackets were staring at a wall with spray paint plastered on it. They were obviously from the Salamander gang, one of several in the city. Sasori, unfortunately, lived in the direct center of three different gang territories. There was a shootout at least once a week. They desperately wanted to move away, but with the lack of money and their art career pretty much dead, they were forced to listen to gun fire at all hours.

"The Samurai think they're hot shit." A different member said, disdain for the rival gang very clear. Sasori kept their head down, hoping to get away quietly. The last thing they needed was trouble with some gang. "I mean, who even let them put their trash on our street?"

"The fuck you'd say?" A new person said. They lead a group of four people, all of them dressed in shiny red shirts with black kanji sewn on and swords strapped to their backs. 'God damnit, the Samurai are here.' Sasori thought. They needed to get out of there. 'Just a few more feet and I can get away.'

"I said, why the fuck is your trash on our street." The Salamander stepped forward threating. Sasori slowly came to a stop. They needed to consider what would be the safest way to get out of the situation, turn around or just keep going past the gangsters.

"This ain't your street anymore, bitch." The Samurai member stepped up to meet the other's challenge. 'Someone's going to get shot, I can feel it.' Sasori thought as they hid behind a telephone pole. Part of them wanted to see how this situation would play out.

"Fuck you, we had to fight the Akatsuki tooth and nail for this damn street. We ain't gonna give it up to some punk asshole wannabes." The Salamander reached inside their jacket for what was probably a gun.

The Samurai member laughed. "Congratulations, you took a street from a "gang" that can barely hold down a damn church nobody else wants. You gonna brag about killin' a housefly, too?"

In the blink of an eye, the smug Samurai was staring down the barrel of a pistol. Sasori saw the smugness leave their eyes, but their face never wavered. The sight of the gun didn't scare Sasori at all like it should've, the result of their fucked up childhood.

The other members half-heartily tried to calm the Salamander member down but tensions were through the roof. Nothing short of a miracle was going to stop this. In a split second everyone had their guns out and was ready to fire. There was a pause. Nobody wanted to make the first move.

Sasori crouched in an effort to make themselves a smaller target. If they were going to stay to watch they at least needed to not get shot by a stray bullet. They heard a gun cock. Then, hell broke loose. Bullets flew through the air, pinging off metal and brick, leaving harsh indents wherever they hit. The gangsters dropped like flies until only one person, a Samurai member, remained.

Sasori stood up and tried to leave as quickly as humanly possible. Only, a SMG pointed in between their eyes stopped them. "Wrong place, wrong time, motherfucker." The Samurai had a sadistic smile.

'Oh. Oh no.'

A gun fired, but it wasn't the one at their head. The Samurai crumbled at their feet. Sasori looked up from the body to whoever saved them. The first thing they noticed was the person's orange hair, then their brown eyes that carried an intensity that unsettled Sasori more than the shotgun in their hands did.

"You alright?" They asked, their gun already hidden.

"I'm fine." Sasori replied in their normal monotone. They had seen much worse before. A bullet shot sideways though some random person was nothing new.

They glanced over Sasori's front. "What gang are you in? I don't know any that wear purple."

"I'm not in a gang." Sasori snapped. They straightened their jacket and smeared the blood on their face in an attempt to wipe it off.

"Seriously? You just witnessed what I would call a pretty intense shootout, had a gun to your head, and I didn't see you even break a sweat." They stopped. "You've been in one before though, right?"

Sasori hesitated. "Yes, but that was a long time ago."

"Huh. Oh uh, I'm Yahiko of the 6th Street Akatsuki." Yahiko held out a hand for Sasori to shake. They did so reluctantly. "I use him/he pronouns." Sasori gave a short nod. "How about you?"

"Them/their and…Hiruko's my name."

"I don't believe that name for a second, but the cops are gonna show up like now, so we need we to go." Yahiko jogged off. Sasori followed, only because it was the opposite direction of all the bodies.

"You know," Yahiko said without breaking his jog. "You should join the Akatsuki. We could really use someone like you."

"Someone like what?"

"You know. Someone calm who was past experience. That'll be really helpful. And well, we just need people in general. We're not a big gang."

"No thanks. I don't feel like making running from the cops and getting shot at a regular occurrence."

"Well, if you change your mind, I'll be at the church on 6th Street. You'll know it when you see it."

Sasori, true to their reserved nature, didn't say anything more. A block later, Yahiko had to leave. "I'm completely serious about you joining. You won't regret it. Most of the time anyway."

"If I tell you I'll think about it, will you leave me alone?" Yahiko nodded. "Fine, then I will." He smiled and jogged away. Sasori walked the rest of the way to their apartment.

Their bag hit the couch not a second before they landed next to it. Their eyes already glued to their pathetic excuse of a television. Static crackled until, "- Channel 8 News here with a breaking story. This afternoon, a gang gun down occurred on the intersection of Kusagakure and Getsugakure . It appears to be between the gangs Samurai and Salamander, but police suspect others may be involved. More as the story develops. "They changed channels.

'Why the hell would I want to get involved in that?' Sasori asked themselves. 'I don't need that life anymore. I have art now. I can believe in my art, I can trust my art. It hasn't lead me wrong yet.'

They rolled onto their stomach. 'I should sleep. I do have that meeting tomorrow morning.' They reached into their pocket for their phone so that they set an alarm. They couldn't find it. 'The hell?' In a blind panic, they tore apart their messenger bag, and when that wielded no results, their studio apartment. When they checked their pants pocket for the 18th time it hit them.

'That son of a bitch stole my phone.'

I'm really excited for this story! I've been in love with saints row recently and I just had to do this. Let's hope that I don't lose interest or get violently burnt out on it. And if you're worried that you need to know about saints row to read this, don't be.

Anyway, thank you for reading! Expect more eventually!