***DISCLAIMER***
Being a Saints Row FanFic, this piece borrows characters, locations, and events from those belonging to VOLITION, INC. All rights respected.
Chapter 1: Steppin' Up
Kanto was hopping tonight. The former Ronin Stronghold had barely reopened a week ago from the slaughter of Jyunichi and his goons, and already the dimly-lit eatery was full of the familiar clinks of chopsticks on plates and complaints about the foul smelling spring rolls. At a private table in the back sat two burly looking men lounging behind a wall of muscle-bound guards dressed head to toe in purple and black.
"Look bruv, I wouldn't leave you in charge of my gang unless I thought you up to the task." The unapologetically Cockney accent belonged to Drake Peppermill, Boss of the 3rd Street Saints. He sat in his usual get up of an open plaid button down, black cargos, and boots; all Purple and Black as per the infamous gang colors. His dirty blond hair was gelled up in its neat little spikes and his cobalt colored eyes smirked from behind heavy black framed glasses at his younger brother, Jake who sat across from him.
"Spot on mate, but the whole gang? I mean, I wasn't even a left-tenant a week ago, you sure I'm your man?" Jake questioned, his own green eyes shone with a mixture of surprise and challenge. He was in his own Saints-Themed gear, a Stilwater Sharks jersey and jean shorts, with a fresh pair of kicks. "What about Gat, or Pierce?"
Drake fixed his brother with a glare that Jake could feel chill the very marrow in his bones, and began rolling the mother of all blunts in the middle of the table. Stilwater P.D. be damned.
"You off your damn rocker, mate? Shit, Gat's comin' wif me ain't he? And besides, Pierce can't even handle Shaundi by himself; let alone our city and this crew." He jerked a thumb at the wall of meat that obscured them from the rest of Kanto's customers. "No mate, you're my man, palms to heaven and all that."
Jake knew there was no arguing with his elder brother on this matter, so he simply gave it up. They had been raised…
"Have it your own way then bruv; I'll give it a go then." Jake shrugged his heavy shoulders and leaned forward, elbows on the table. "So, what's the jig, eh?"
Drake sparked the blunt up, taking a huge hit before releasing the haze out of the side of his mouth and answering the question with a THC-induced drawl. "Me and Gat are going to chase that tosspot Dex down and nail his arse to the front door of the goddamned Philips Building for all them Ultor bitches to see what happens when you fuck with the Saints!" He pounded the table with his fist as if to physically hammer home his point.
Just then the unmistakable ring tone of an Ill Wireless phone trilled from inside Drake's pocket. He whipped the phone out, pausing to check the caller ID before answering. It was Gat, so Drake put him on speaker and laid the phone on the table next to his half eaten bowl of egg drop soup which had gone cold an hour ago.
"Yo boss, I ain't getting' any fuckin' younger out here, can we get a move on before Dex's trail gets colder than Maero's corpse? That contact at the Marina said the boat was set to sail in 20 minutes." Gat's trademark irritation marked every word. He was outside in the Boss' custom Zomkah, waiting for what had been described as "a quick chirp at me bruv." Needless to say, that chirp had been anything but quick as brothers do tend to get carried away.
"Don't get your fucking knickers in a knot, Gat. I'm comin' out now." Drake clicked the phone off and tossed it back in his pocket. He stood up and adjusted his collar before Jake took the unspoken cue to get up as well; blood or not, Drake was still The Boss. "Look, Jay, I gotta tie off this last loose end before I can even dream of settlin' in back at The Row. Meanwhile, you gotta hold things down here until I do. We may have squashed the gangs for now, but you know how this cricket game goes."
Jake merely nodded and leaned in for the obligatory bro-hug before Drake was quickly swallowed by his walls of hired muscle and ushered out into the night and Gat's impatiently waiting ride to the Marina. Jake stared after the closed doors of Kanto for a minute while he slowly accepted his new status as the most powerful man in Stilwater. Lucky for Jake, a big slice of humble pie sat waiting for him at another table downstairs.
The lowest floor of Kanto is known as the Dojo. It wasn't always called that, but after being the spot where The Boss turned Jyunichi into Beef Teriyaki, the name just kind of stuck. The Dojo is also host to the "lower class" customers of Stilwater; those Kanto wished would get their meals at Freckle Bitch's or Apollo's, but cash is cash at day's end. Needless to say, lax service equals sketchier ambiance. As such, every night The Dojo would be hazy with a fog of smoke from variously questionable sources. As Jake made his way through it towards a particularly crowded table in the corner, he spotted the people he was looking for. One was sulking with his thick arms crossed over his chest and the other was pounding shot after shot of what he seriously hoped was just rice wine.
"Shaun-di! Shaun-di! Shaun-di!" the raucous crowd of people chanted as they pumped their fists and gave each other high fives in celebration. Most of them were probably too plastered to know why they were cheering, but one reveler got a little too inspired and decided to grab a handful of supple Shaundi ass.
"HEY! What the hell! You stu—" Shaundi whipped her dreadlocked head around and began protesting at the glad handed bastard, but was abruptly cut off by the crash of a wooden chair shattering over the groper's unfortunate head. In a flash, all eyes swiveled up towards the figure still holding two partial chair legs and a fearsome glare at the now unconscious man who lay in a heap on the floor.
"I know I'm a bit late to the party, but did I miss the bit where the lady asked you to pinch her arse, you guttersnipe?" Nobody said a word in response. While the role of Boss was new to him, most of Stilwater's underbelly knew full well who Jake Peppermill was, even if Jake himself was unaware of how quickly the underground spreads word. Somehow, one person found a voice, as he rarely failed to do. It was the sulker in the corner.
"Jesus H Christ, Jake. Is Shaundi's ass really worth killin' a guy over? I mean seriously, that seat has seen more action than a barstool at TeeNay!" The sulker exclaimed. Pierce. It could only be Pierce; no one else had such blind contempt for someone as popular as Shaundi. Pierce wasn't jealous of her status, so much as the way he felt she went about attaining it. Namely, by banging dudes and harvesting information.
"Watch yourself Pierce, I'm in no bloody mood for any more bullshit than I already have on my plate." Jake grumbled as the crowd began to disperse.
Pierce saw the look in his new Jake's eyes and went back to his sulking position in the corner of the booth. "I noticed you didn't tell me I was wasn't wrong about Shaundi's ass though…" Pierce muttered under his breath.
"Thanks Boss," Shaundi purred as she turned to face her brash savior. "But for the record, I totally could've taken that guy."
A slight smirk crept across Jake's otherwise stony demeanor while in the corner Pierce's face was the very picture of shock and awe. "BOSS? What happened to, you know, THE Boss?" Pierce's panic was twofold; one, The Boss Drake was a big defender of Pierce and two, The Boss never did Shaundi, so there was no need to worry about favoritism there. As it was, Pierce had his suspicions about Shaundi and Jake.
"Yeah Pierce, Drake just made me Boss while he and Gat go chase down that Dex bastard. I'm not sure how I feel about myself, but that's where the chips lie, friend." Jake replied heavily. Coming up in the gang like Jake did, always behind the scenes, never calling more attention to himself than absolutely necessary, being a figurehead sat oddly on his broad shoulders.
Pierce was still floored, both by the abrupt change in status as well as Shaundi, once again, being ahead of the curve, and certainly more so than Pierce who was still a lieutenant himself.
"Whatever man. What I wanna know is why did Shaundi already know this and I didn't?" he whined.
Shaundi only blushed, which in act alone was unusual for someone as loose as she was. Pierce did not fail to notice. "YOU'RE BANGIN' THE BOSS?" he wailed like cat tread under his own size 13 boot.
In a flash, Jake was on top of him, right knee buried in Pierce's gut and his same hand clamped over Pierce's loud mouth. "Easy Pierce. This thing started weeks ago, long before I even dreamed of the move." He wagged his finger between himself and the still demure looking Shaundi, who seemed almost frantic to find more of the rice wine from earlier. Anything to be elsewhere while the boys talked about this particular matter.
"Mman-mou-memmo-uh-mah-moof-mow?" Pierce uttered through Jake's vice grip.
"What'd you say?" Jake asked, knowing more or less what was said as he released his hold and rolled into the seat across from Pierce.
"Never mind that man," he said as he readjusted himself and squared his shoulders, "I just wanna know what you plan to do with her now, seeing as how most people won't be as cool about this shit as me."
Jake's expression was the mask of composure, but behind it, his emerald eyes were weeks in the past. Back at Purgatory where the whole affair with Shaundi began, when his brother towed her in and laid her on his bed next to the hot tub. It didn't seem like such a big deal then, but hindsight being 20/20, Jake was now wishing he had handled himself a little differently.
"I dunno, mate. I hadn't really thought that far ahead," he admitted.
Pierce huffed and leaned back in the booth, having figured the new boss was apparently just as forward thinking as the old one. "You'll figure something out, Jake. By the way, why do you switch back and forth between that accent and regular English?"
Jake hadn't realized he'd done that. However, the explanation was simple. "I use the accent when I talk with Drake because it's the way he remembers me, so he prefers it. I also use when I'm pissed off because it's the Brit in me. But unlike him, I was mostly raised here in the states, so I'm comfortable in both. Understand?"
"Whatever man, all I know is that all these changes are making me seriously hungry and not for none of this rice and noodle bullshit." Pierce announced as he rose from the table and patted his stomach. "Who's down for some Chicken Bazooms and Fries? I got a hot date with a Freckle Bitch!"