AN: I've been a lurking reader of Saint's Row fiction for some time now, and never really had an original thought in my pea-sized brain. But one day, I noticed how little Oleg there is in the world. That made me a saaaaad panda. So, I set out to right this wrong the only way I knew how: by contributing with my poor attempt at literature! There will hopefully be multiple chapters in the future, playing with the events that occur, or could have occurred, during Saint's Row: The Third.
I chose my protagonist to be vague for a reason: I wanted to be able to insert any gender that I wanted at any time. So, to the readers, you want it to be a dude? Have fun. Want it to be a chick? Let your imagination be your guide.
Hope you enjoy!
After slaughtering several levels of Morningstar members within the illustrious, and very red, Syndicate Tower, the boss of the Third Street Saints and their two lieutenants Pierce and Shaundi were trekking cautiously. Shaundi covered the rear, while the Boss and Pierce had their sights trained in front. They passed several bulbous glass tanks that were suspended in the air and obscured by some type of chemical mist and plenty of wires. When the group came to an alcove to the upper right of the factory, each of them stared in morbid curiosity, while the Boss had enough gumption to question, "What the hell is all this?"
Before them was a massive specimen of a man (and there was no mistaking that it was definitely male), suspended in the air by a vicious myriad of wires and needles, as well as three glowing balls that imprisoned his hands at either side of him, and his feet encased together in one globe. The fellow was unclothed, and was assumed in 'Jesus formation', as the Boss dubbed it in their head. The bald man raised his head slowly to meet the bewildered gaze of two people behind, and the fascinated stare of the leader in front, before he spoke in a thickly accented voice, raspy from lack of use.
"Phillipe likes his things custom-made…and for his brutes, I am the master pattern, you see." Now that he mentioned it, he bore an unhealthy resemblance to the brutes that the Saints had recently been acquainted with. The Boss could easily pick out the differences, however. The more chiseled jaw, the emotive eyebrows, Grecian nose that hung a little to the left. The analytical attention that was held in the man's mis-matched blue and black eyes was vacant from the simple-minded and frantic browse of the brutes the boss had encountered, and promptly silenced with a mouth chock full of grenade. Pierce frowned and spoke up to the hulking man.
"Why're you still strung up if they already cloned yo' ass?"
"The copies are flawed. They have my brawn, but not my brain." With an inclination of his head, the only part of his body he could move, he turned his gaze to the Boss before he spoke again.
"I can help you." The leader of the Third Street Saints blinked, their attention diverted back to the matter at hand.
Pierce leaned in closer to his boss and stage whispered, "The last time a big naked dude said he could help me, it did not end well." The boss didn't even entertain Pierce's quip, but when Shaundi spoke up, the leader loaned an ear.
"What could he even do anyway? Those wires and shit are probably keeping him alive." Shaundi's argument was much more valid, and the Boss turned his attention back to the giant when he plead his case.
"Trust me. I am still strong enough to kill Phillipe." His voice and his gaze grew hard with promised vengeance. It was a look the Boss knew all too well and probably saw it on their own face in the mirror earlier that day, or for the past couple years for that matter. Who would they be to deny the behemoth his chance at taking a crack at the insufferable Belgian. Without lowering their gaze with the ensnared man, the Boss opened fire on the bulbous entrapment that covered the Slavic's hands and feet. The Saints joined along seconds later, and they all ceased fire when the gigantic male ripped himself out of his weakened binds systematically until he fell to one knee. The Boss couldn't help but think of The Terminator as they watched the giant stand to his feet, easily towering over all three of them. The muscular ex-experiment gained his bearings and cracked his neck and shoulders soundly, eliciting a mild shudder from Shaundi. Pierce looked squeamish for a different reason entirely as he hesitantly spoke to the man.
"You want some clothes, man?" The big guy didn't even glance in Pierce's direction. His eyes was on the stairs and ultimately to Loren.
"No time." He simply said as he made his way away from his broken prison. Shaundi back up, knowing better than to get in the naked giant's way.
The Boss nodded to the others to follow their new 'friend', and they could hear Pierce mumble under his breath, "Man, like I said, 'Last time a big naked dude…'"
As Shaundi and the Boss were the closest behind their Russian comrade, the Boss got an even better show of what the behemoth looked like, and from where their eyes continuously lingered, it was obvious that they liked what they saw. The muscular gentleman gestured to a pair of closed elevator doors and spoke directly to the leader of the Saints.
"This elevator will take us to the offices." and the Boss pressed the Call button to summon the lift. While it was a miracle that the three of them even fit in the elevator with the enormous and naked man, it was a more outstanding miracle that the Boss managed to not look entirely obvious that they were staring unabashedly at their new companion in the enclosed space. When everyone exited the elevator at some non-specified floor, the Slavic man continued to take the lead as he kept a powerful jog down a winding corridor.
"Follow me to Phillipe's office." As their new 'comrade' lead the way, sprinting up corridors and body-checking any doors and obstacles in their way, the Boss couldn't help but memorize the contours of each muscle that rippled with movement. Shaundi landed a rough elbow to her leader's right kidney to stop the Boss from continuing their appreciative and borderline hungry staring. The Boss merely grinned wolfishly and mouthed the word, "What?" as if there was nothing wrong with their lecherous act.
Meanwhile, Pierce wasn't as appreciative of their new companion's nudity as he tried to be polite. "Seriously, man, if you want, I could go find, like a curtain or somethin' for you, you know…" The giant took the offering in stride, and answered in kind.
"The human body is nothing to be ashamed of. Unless you have…insecurities." The deliberate pause in his words made Shaundi snort and prompted an abashed "I'm good!" from Pierce. The Boss couldn't help but think that this guy couldn't have been insecure at any point in his life, based solely on the body they were staring at, from behind, for the past seven minutes. However, the distracted leader decided they needed to put a name the person they were objectifying silently in their mind.
"Not that I'm ungrateful, but I sometimes like to know a guy's name before I see them naked?" The Boss trained their eyes upward with no small amount of willpower, just in time to see a flicker of an indecipherable emotion flash through the massive man's mis-matched eyes before he carefully answered, his gaze back falling back to the front as they all sprinted ahead.
"My name is Oleg Kirrlov…" The Third Street's Saints commander could recognize the hesitance in the answer and assumed that Oleg didn't often give out his name, and took it as a compliment that he'd at least grace this rag-tag team with that. Shaundi, perhaps, sensed the Russian's falter and tried to strike up conversation.
"So, what did you do, before you were a…glorified pin-cushion?" Pierce didn't even bother hiding his gaping expression that he aimed to Shaundi and her amusingly not tactful enough approach.
The Boss just listened on to see what Oleg would say, and all three weren't surprised when he closed the conversation with a terse, "I think it best for our …friendship, that I never elaborate. Just know that the enemy of your enemy, is your friend. As long as you oppose The Syndicate, you have nothing to fear from me."
"Works for me! Welcome Aboard." The Boss was pleased to hear that the Saints had new ally that they could depend on to help bring the hurt to The Syndicate, and was a little selfishly content that Oleg wouldn't be considered a threat, because it would be a crying shame if they'd have to neutralize the enormous man, especially before the purple clad leader could-… Before the rest of that salacious thought could continue, the group had sprinted through another corridor of offices, a pair of stairs, and turned around the corner.
"Loren's office is this way." Oleg saw the target before anyone else and made a mad dash towards a casually strolling Phillipe Loren who was climbing into another elevator. The Saints were thankfully on guard and raced after Oleg, while the Boss aimed their Shepard pistols and let a blazing fury of bullets off towards Phillipe, but their aim was a smidgen off due to sprinting and shooting at the same time. The now closed elevator doors took most of the bullets, and when the group reached it, the Boss let out a string of curses and slammed their palms on the doors in frustration.
"That's an express elevator to the basement. There is no way we will catch him." Perhaps it was the adrenaline pumping in their veins that made them turn to gaze frantically to the right, where an enormous spherical counterweight hung high in the crimson lit terrace.
And suppose it was the unbridled fury on Shaundi and Pierce's faces when it seemed that Loren would once again get away and not face their wrath for murdering their close friend and fellow lieutenant that made the leader of the Saints sprint towards the metal ball.
Maybe it was the defeated tone that Oleg had spoke in that showed how close he was to revenge against Phillipe, only for the opportunity to slip away once more and deny him retribution that caused the Boss to snarl, "Fuck. That," before clearing about a ten to fifteen foot distance in a large leap and land on the massive sphere. There was nothing much to grip onto, but it was just enough for the Saints commander to hold onto the base of the counterweight, adjusting their weight so they held with one arm their body, and the other trained on armed Syndicate goons that started to show up and open fire on the intruder's dangling body.
"Get this loose! We're going to smash that smug fucker!" The Boss could vaguely hear Oleg and Pierce trying to loosen the metal ball from its hinges, but was more pre-occupied with shooting the black and red clad gang members, rattling left and right from the recoil of the gun they were using proficiently. The top two levels of the balconies were littered with bodies as the leader murdered indiscriminately.
The Boss heard Oleg's "Done." And then felt the sphere descend, and the rush went straight the commander's head.
"Familiar with Agincourt, ya prick?!" The Boss yelled out to the direction they suspected Loren was heading. The Saint was aware enough to pull themselves up in time for the counterweight to spin on an axis as it fell and careened through several ceilings. While on one of the stable sides of ball, the boss noticed one of Oleg's clones landed on and was approaching fast, despite the velocity the two were traveling. Letting go of the orb for a total of four seconds to reach for another magazine, the Boss managed to reload their gun, grab hold of the plummeting vessel again, and open fire on the Brute with extreme prejudice. While the hulking clone was shrugging off a majority of the bullets, the Boss's plan was a success when the Brute lost too much momentum and was flung off the still falling counterweight.
There was barely time to breathe as the Boss could see on the edge of their vision that the basement was the last stop. They saw faint wisps of smoke that the leader hoped was from Phillipe's cigarette, and they prepared themselves for a shock-wave as the steel ball hit the concrete with a crunch. It was hardly inert as it continued to roll forward, and the Saint let go, landing on their back with a groan as the counterweight continued its rampage. With several hard earned breaths, the leader of the Third Street Saints stood up shakily, and their gaze was immediately caught by the grizzly streaks of blood that came from the tumbling metal sphere. With a manic grin, the Boss outed the still smoldering cigarette with their boot in the pool of Belgian blood before stepping toward the truck with the bomb. With a tap on the Bluetooth headset in their ear, the Boss told Shaundi and Pierce, as well as Oleg, although he had to hear through the two lieutenants, that the deed was done.
When the three Saints reached the basement level, they saw their Boss circling the bomb with a thoughtful expression on their face. Shaundi spoke first, her tone bitter and hard.
"What're you waiting for? Time to blow this place to Hell." The Boss opened their mouth to retort, but Oleg beat them to it as he spoke up.
"I hate this place more than anyone, but it would be foolish to destroy Phillipe's research without seeing what we can harvest from it…" And their leader could see the merits in that approach as well. Clones such as the Brutes, while definitely not perfect, was a hell of a lot further than whatever the government was working on. If the Saint didn't use the research for themselves, it could still fetch a pretty penny on the Black Market. So, the leader attempted to voice their concerns, but was once again interrupted by Shaundi, who was incredulous at the idea of keeping anything that was remotely associated with Loren in one piece.
"We came here to send a message, didn't we?!" And, that they were. The Saints, after suffering such a defeat by losing Johnny and being embarrassed in Steelport with little money to their name, had began this rampage with a clear message in mind to be sent to the gangs that composed the Syndicate: "The Third Street Saints were, in no shape or form, anyone's bitch. Also, there would be Hell to pay, in spades, for what was done to them." Pierce had mentioned on the trip to Syn Tower that this mission was not completed until the Syndicate was abolished, and he was right. Now, the Boss was irritated at Shaundi's question and was ready to scream, but then Oleg turned his massive self to face his new leader and proposed the alternative choice.
"Why not keep the building for yourself?" And that question paused any peep that was going to come from the Boss and made them really ponder that possibility. While revenge and comeuppance was something that the Boss was absolultely versed in at this point in their criminal career, the funds for their revenge was costly, and commercializing everything the Saints did left a sour taste in the Saint's mouth. Nothing could send a bigger message than claiming all of the Morningstar assets as their own and drowning the tall magenta tower in violet neon.
"Your choice, here, Boss…" Pierce prompted, and the Boss walked over to the console to the base of the bomb. With the press of a few buttons, the countdown for the bomb was deactivated. While Shaundi groaned in frustration, Pierce shrugged and place a hand on her shoulder that she promptly shook off. Oleg watched the leader with a curious look, to which he received a shrug and a smirk.
"Don't be so surprised. You make a mean argument, Mr. Kirrlov. Now, let's go back upstairs and scope out the rest of OUR tower." The leader of the Saints led the way back to the elevator, waving for the moping Shaundi and oblivious Pierce to follow as well. They went back to the floor with Phillipe's office and main conference room, and was greeted with a pair of mahogany double doors with a large star etched into it expertly. The leader pushed the doors open and let them in, and was greeted with a large room that was encased in black marble and lacquer, with bronze Roman statues posed in mid-battle to the left, right, and center of the room. A large obnoxious chair was set to the front of the room, on a raised platform. The entire room was lit up in red neon, but it made everything look pink instead of crimson.
"Ugh, we're gonna have to do something about the pink." The Boss grimaced as they took in the room and mentally started redecorating the interior. "You'd prefer a more manly shade, like purple?" Oleg smirked coyly as the three remaining Saints turned and looked at him, two with incredulity at the cheeky tone Oleg had used, and one of them with a pleasantly surprised, and dare anyone say, content expression on their face.
'Oh, he's a keeper.'