Hey folks, I really should have posted this along with the prologue but..ahh well, figured you guys should at least the strange intro before I actually get into the meat of the story. I don't own any of the characters that you see here, except for one character. Kane is not mine, he is owned by Alith Anar. Took awhile to get Kane's personality do...oh what am I saying? Kane is basically the default Boss of SR3, though with a different look. Anyways, Thanks Alith! I will hopefully not pick on your own character too badly.
1. The Point of Departure
by: DahkPanda
A simple transaction at a bank gone completely wrong. Go figure.
It was the air pressure that was giving him one hell of a headache. Sure, it could have been the bank robbery gone wrong, and the fact that his Saints were now taken by a bunch of nimrods that were obviously a part of a gang outside of Stilwater. Really, it only took the fact that all of them were all carrying the color red to verify that.
Save for the twins in front of them. They could be wearing red, but to be honest he couldn't remember...it didn't help when one of the two kept shifting from toe-to-toe, which made their butt shift in that tight skirt they were wearing. Yeah, coherent thoughts went bye-bye. Whoever these girls were, they were natural in those areas. It made the strippers look like Peggy, Will's first ho back when Kane was just starting out in the Saints.
Still, he was now the boss, the head of the Saints, running the entire Saint/Ultor foundation, worth billions of dollars. If people even saw him drooling like an idiot to a woman's ass, he'd never hear the end of it.
It was about that time that the very twin that was shifting around finally turned towards the man. Normally, he would move a hand to slick his hair back...but that was tied behind the chair he sat in. His suit ruffled and even had a few cuts across his jacket...and it was dirty beyond repair. So really he couldn't be as suave as he would normally be during a situation like this. So, instead…
"Hey, five hundred bucks for a lap dance, girl..." Kane stated aloud, grinning from ear to ear. Normally he wouldn't do that, but to be honest, he was actually trying to get a rise out of the girl. Why? Because angry girls were cute, Shaundi was very much included on that list.
The girl glared at him, but didn't make a move. "Ahhh…C'mon...Thousand? Two Thousand? I mean, you got the body to make a guy cream his pants, girl, just jiggle that ass of yours and you're a millionaire overnight…"
Okay, Kane made himself look like an idiot, though he was doing that on purpose, let these assholes think he's on the same level as a horny Josh Birk, or some two-bit gangsta who randomly got a fortune. Plus, it was a good way to see the limits of these two girls, who were ranked pretty high in this group. If they start acting up, it means the boss should be an easy guy to take down.
"...or do you whore yourself out? I mean, damn girl, if you have a good ass, and those tits look good, might mean you have a damn good..."
...they didn't move, and Kane finally closed his mouth. Damn, he was kind of hoping they were easier to piss off. Time to cut at least the sexual part of the bravado.
Johnny Gat laughed though, though more towards the fact that he knew what Kane was doing, and the girl's didn't budge than by his words anyway. Of all the people that would figure out what Kane did, it would be Johnny. The term 'Bromance' would fit with them, along with 'the Psychotic Duo'. They been around each other enough to where they thought alike...With the only difference would be Kane would have said something then shot somebody...Johnny shoots the room then makes his quote.
Shaundi scoffed herself, not quite getting what Kane was doing, but she probably figured that he was trying to provoke something. Still, it didn't work, and now Kane had to figure out something else to do until hopefully whoever had them tied to a bunch of chairs was finally going to come out...
He soon shifted too and fro from his chair and growled. "Where's my fucking shades man!?" He stated and glared at the twins. "Seriously man…those were six-hundred dollar shades!.." ...that were stolen, but anyway. "At least let me have them before you start telling us what you want…"
It was then the chair that was in front of the three suddenly twisted around, revealing an older man. In way, it reminded Kane of the Emperor swiveling around to meet the Jedi, only instead of wearing robes, he was wearing a suit with a red scarf over it. He looked like a Don of a Mafia...which maybe close to what this group might be…
Kane wasn't all that impressed. "Seriously, do you have any idea who the fuck you're dealing with!?"
"Of course..." This old man stated. His voice had a very thick accent that Kane could not figure out for the life of him where it came from. As Kane stared at the older gentleman, one of the Twins dropped a Gat bobble head on the table that was next to him.
Johnny snorted lightly, and Kane forced himself not to smirk. If Johnny hated anything, it was those damn bobble heads.
Though this old man didn't do it to piss Johnny off, he flicked the bobble head anyway before turning towards the three prisoners. "A remarkable likeness..."
There was a subtle shift of his head, and he spread his arms out towards one of the Twins. "These visions are Viola and Kiki. And I am Phillipe Loren, chairman of a multinational organization called the Syndicate."
The hell was that accent? Kane thought.
It was Shaundi, who finally spoke for the first time since the prison. "…Never heard of it." She stated. If anybody knew anything about these guys, it was her.
Loren merely puffed on the cigar he was smoking before looking towards Shaundi. "Evidentially not, or you would have not robbed our bank. Perhaps you are wondering why you are still breathing at this point?"
Johnny frowned lightly. "Actually, I wonder why my foot's not up your ass at this point."
It was the way that Loren ignored Johnny's threat that really started to piss Kane off. Johnny was a man to really be feared, and you blow it off like smoke? Loren stood up by now, still holding onto his cigarette so delicately, like a petunia. Somehow that removed any scariness from this graying old man. "Like it or not, Mr. Gat, our organization is expanding into Stilwater. I am offering you the chance to leverage your assets against your lives. Ladies?" He states, stepping away from the prisoner's eye view. .
The screen behind the twins suddenly was brought to life, revealing a pie-chart. The vast majority of it read Syndicate, while a tiny sliver, the type that some asshole uncle would give to you when you wanted a bigger slice, read the Saints. This reminded the Boss of Maero's conversation with...he shook his head before looking to Viola, or at least that's what the boss thought it was, as she started to talk. "You may continue to operate the Saints/Ultor media group as you see fit, in exchange for 66% of your monthly gross revenue."
Kiki piped in to finish that sentence. "That is before taxes, of course."
Kane growled lightly, last thing he needed was another big organization breathing down his neck. "Listen you French fuck..." He started. Loren was French, that's where the accent came from...
Loren scoffed as he stepped into view again. "Please! I am Belgian."
Kane frowned. Okay, so he was close...
Johnny didn't seem to care really, "So make yourself a fuckin' waffle. We're done here."
There was a shift in the air, and Kane knew well enough by their own business that unless something could be done now, they were going to be shot. It was Loren's eyes, they shifted from a businessman, to a professional killer. Seems he wasn't just a regular businessman. And I hadn't even gotten close to getting out of this chair. Shit. "And I had so hoped to come to a rational business arrangement." Loren stated softly, once more stepping away from the group as one of his henchmen came into view, aiming a rather large 45 Shepard to Johnny's forehead.
It was like Johnny suddenly became a superhero...or a Tank. In one swift moment, the man pulled the chair off his hinges, and somehow got himself loose as well, taking down the henchman with one fell movement. A punch later, the henchman was down, and Johnny turned towards Loren, only to get stabbed.
Kane would have placed his head into his hand. Only because he basically imagined himself doing the same thing, lacking the stabbing of course. He must have been really losing his touch if Johnny can get out like Superman while he could barely move the chair. Still, he felt like Johnny could have done all that without the stabbing. It's becoming a habit.
Johnny then proceeded use Loren's face like a battering ram, smashing it into the airplane window and somehow shattering it. The way Loren screamed, Kane could only guess that eye was gone. He'll find out later if the guy has an eye patch in the future.
Soon, Kane and Shaundi were loose, and Johnny almost ordered him to jump out the back.
As Kane managed to say something to "Not without you" six guys suddenly ran in, guns a blazing. It took a bit much for Johnny to push them out the door, though soon Kane found himself heading towards the back of the plane, finding a Shepard off of a guy he just beat to death.
Kane can really remember his mind finally kicking back in when he found the object of his desires. He eyed them, grinning from ear to ear, and pulled off his six-hundred dollar (stolen) shades over his eyes, from the corpse he just took out. "Good times..." He stated, and snapped a round from his 45 Shepard into the eye of another Syndicate goon.
As he reached the back, he was still contemplating why the hell did Shaundi not get a chute of her own, since there were plenty in the back, though to be honest he was more or less thinking why he didn't just pick up another 45 Shepard (Then he would have two pistols!). But what happened next made him forget about all of that...
"Johnny, we're ready to jump!" Shaundi stated into the com.
After a quick buzz and the sound of grunts and gunfire, Johnny's voice finally came in. "All right, I'll see you in Stil..."
The fire of SMG sounded, and the com-link went dead.
...
...
...
The Silence was deafening. The wind was almost mute even to the two. Kane's eyes shifted towards the cockpit, while Shaundi stared at the com still.
It was Shaundi who finally broke the silence. "...Johnny?" She managed. Kane could hear the voice break a little.
Before the two even had a thought between themselves, they looked at each other and turned towards the cockpit.
The airplane suddenly shifted violently, so sudden and just enough that both tumbled. A second shake soon sent them flying backwards. Kane found himself tumbling violently down the ramp, and luckily managed to take old of the edge. As Shaundi soon fell from the ramp, Kane was able to catch her by the wrist…only for a damn car to nearly bounce off his face for him to let go as well.
One very long drop from a plane...and...one trip 'through' a plane later, Kane and Shaundi were on the ground, penniless, inside a stolen car, and talking about various guns they could pick up...including an armory which sounded too good to be true. Manpower was the only other issue but considering how many Saints are currently in Stilwater, they just needed to get a hold of Pierce and suddenly they'll have enough muscle for this city. Granted, how many Saints will take him seriously in this new war that he didn't start.
Might be the only reason why my record is often ignored, I don't shoot enough people... Kane managed to think. A small joke for him to chuckle at, but today he just lost the man that was his brother in arms. To be honest, the only person that was closer to Johnny than him was...
...His mind erased that though in a moment. Anything but that psychotic. In only a few weeks she burnt down half of Stilwater and left a large enough bloody stain on the reputation of the Saints that it still haunts them to this day. Reporters constantly try to ask him about why Shivington ended up becoming a smear of burnt ashes, to which he could never answer. No, it will never be her again. Last thing he needed was turning Steelport into a crater, not when he had his own plans anyway.
Fate though, had other ideas. Shaundi had texted Pierce about bringing helicopters and the manpower...but then texted one more thing to one more person. A person she knew well enough. To be honest though Kane never truly knew that Shaundi had knowledge of the woman's whereabouts, only she did have knowledge of where she could get in contact with her.
She opened her phone, and moved down to a particular number she often uses...
To: Troy Bradshaw
From: Shaundi
Johnny is Dead.
Sent
Troy Bradshaw woke with a start upon hearing the buzzing of his cell..the one the Saints gave them once they became 'celebrities'. He gave his wife a small smile and stroked her shoulder as she mumbled awake, settling her once more and whispering her to go back to sleep. As soon as he slipped out of bed, he let out a cough as he picked up the phone, expecting yet another 'incident' that will probably require him to pull some strings…again.
He seriously started to wonder if he was a cop or a gangsta with control over the cops. Maybe he should finally stand his ground and just tell Kane to fuck off...but then again he did have a soft spot for his Lieutenants...reminiscent of the old days, in truth.
The fact that the text was from Shaundi woke him a bit more. She was probably the kindest of the four, with Kane just demanding a response and Pierce...well...he could never understand Pierce's texts. Johnny never spoke to him, though Troy understood why.
He smiled as he slowly sat up, opening the text…but the words made him stop.
Johnny is Dead.
The hot summer night in Stilwater suddenly grew cold, and Troy himself had to let out a very slow breath, perhaps the last one he remembered for the next few moments. He didn't remember why his eyes drew tears, though he never truly let them go.
They weren't in talking terms anymore, though Troy held heavy respect for the psycho named Johnny. He made sure all the punks in jail, prisoners and guards alike, never touched the man named Johnny Gat. He was stabbed once by Johnny, but honestly he knew it was coming...the blade didn't hit anything vital either, and after some dozen stitches, he was back out ordering other cops around.
Though they weren't in talking terms, he made sure that Johnny was always welcome at his doorstep. Johnny never came by. So the silent feud between the two continued, though nothing came from it. It did give Troy the chance to meet all of the Saints, including Pierce and Shaundi, and he was there during the funerals...including Aisha...
He was forced to sit in his police car, but he was there, mourning her just like the rest. Johnny still never spoke to him, though it seemed the feud ended after her death.
He slowly slipped out of bed, making sure the older dark skinned beauty continued to rest while he snuck out of the bedroom. He gathered his bathrobe to cover the wifebeater he wore along with his purple boxers (A color Planet Saints loved to sell). And slowly dialed a number, one that he remembered too well.
This was not going to end well...not at all.
"Why in Stilwater?"
Two bikers were too busy playing cards that they almost missed the question. The warehouse was openly lit. Some of the men were currently partying in the corner with a few dancers while others were polishing their bikes...or guns depending upon what was more important. One of the gents that heard the question finally looked up, rubbing his shaved head and smirked, letting his lips suddenly hide under the thick bush of his mustache. "Hey, the Mercs that we were selling to asked for this place, so why not go to one of the shiftiest places in the US?"
The boy just shook his head. He was a Prospect in this little biker gang, not even carrying the Logo the gang wore: A tribal skull over a circle of thirteen stars. Though this wasn't exactly a true outlaw biker gang, instead it worked like a regular gang that you might see on the streets of Stilwater.
Considering the technology that the 13 Masks sold, this gang was anything but regular.
Their clothes were expensive, but damn if they weren't worth their weight in cash. They were a little heavier than most jackets, but considering that they can protect them against most projectiles, the boys didn't mind the weight. Their boss trained them a bit so they can get stronger and adjust to the weight as well. Even use weapons that most punks on the streets wouldn't know about. By the time their boss was done, these men were far more elite than that damn Masako group they heard so much about.
Add to the fact that they are their own private military and get weapons and armor that make them feel like they're in Robocops world, plus free booze and dancers, and this became the gang to be a part of..
The boy just frowned a bit and waved to the two. "But last I heard, our boss wasn't suppost to lay a foot in Stilwater anymore, not with the Saints contro..."
The bald man just held up a hand. "Don't continue that sentence, boy..." He states and set his cards down. "Saints don't care enough to focus on the streets. Small groups get even less attention. Hence why our last deal there were only eight of us there...The Saints don't care, their boss doesn't care, so we don't care. We get money under their noses."
The Boy nodded softly, though then bit his tongue.
The second card player just grinned, a dark skinned fellow. He was facing away from the boy, though he must have noticed the awkward pause. "C'mon boy, ask what's on your mind or I'll just get back to kickin' this guy's ass...Seriously, you never played Go Fish before?"
The bald man glared at the dark-skinned man, though then the boy asked. "...You guys were Saints, right?"
The room went quiet, though there really was not rage or hatred amongst the members, the bald man picked up his cards and sighed. "I wasn't...but the majority of the boys you see here were, followed the boss out the door."
The boy nodded. "So it was true, our boss was a higher up amongst the Sai..."
There was an explosion in the upstairs office room, the room their leader used as her personal 'office' until they reached their own headquarters. It wasn't a weaponized explosion, it sounded more like somebody just threw a desk across a room. With their leader, it could have been any version of explosion really. Still, the noise raised eyebrows, and the bald-headed man nodded to the others to stay down stairs.
Carefully, he moved up the stairs, with the entirety of the gang that were in the room watching his every movement. Some had their weapons drawn and waited for the next few moments. The sounds of crashing continued for another few moments, and the bald man pulled out his gun as he slowly stepped up the stairs. As he reached the top, he didn't open the door, instead, he moved to press his back against the wall next to it. As he reached for the door, he looked over to the rest of the crew, who all had guns aimed at the door, just in case some ninja pops out or something of that caliber.
The man licked his lips and managed to ask. "...Boss?"
Silence. Though there was a huff on the other side, but for the next minute, it was silent. The bald-headed man slowly opened the door, and very carefully peeked in...
When people say a hurricane hit this room, normally they say it when papers were thrown around, sounding more like heavy wind than a hurricane. This looked like a hurricane. What once was a very neat and tidy room with desks and cabinets standing against walls and such were now tossed everywhere. Some of the heavier cabinets were upside down and many of the tables were flipped in all awkward ways. The place looked like a true mess.
There, sitting under a window sill, was their boss. Her hands covering her face as she was bent down. There were no sniffles, but even the bald-headed man could tell...she was crying. Their boss, the queen militaristic bitch, was crying. This made him place his gun into its holster, which in turn calmed the entire gang downstairs. He stepped in fully, moving a hand against his orange mustache before leaning down. "...Boss...?"
The woman was quiet still, just letting in shallow breaths. The man looked around for a few moments before looking down at a completely destroyed phone, the most damaged item in the entire room.
The woman then spoke, startling the bald man. "...Jimmy, my helmet..." She states, and holds out her hand to him. Jimmy then noticed the small trail of blood moving down her other arm, perhaps cut due to one of the cabinets she just threw moments before. He opened his mouth to acknowledge it, though she interrupted him. "...The helmet please. You can bandage me up along the way..."
Jimmy frowned softly. "What do you mean, along the way?" he started though complied and moved around the room, finally catching a glimpse of the helmet and gathering it for her. He held it out to her outstretched hand, and she took a hold of it before placing it over her head. Amazing how little of her face he saw, but again, he knew she was crying.
She didn't answer him, not right away. Instead she slid from her sitting position on the ground to standing fully upright. With the helmet completely covering her face, she stepped out onto the loft that made up the second story of the building, looking down at the entirety of the gang. "Boys, looks like we're heading for Steelport..."
That earned a lot of questioning looks, the majority turned to one another. Jimmy himself looked perplex. "The Syndicate? I thought we were going to ignore them? They outnumber us, bos..."
"Johnny Gat is dead..." She states, it was said simply, softly, though the entire room heard it. They fell silent as they knew the implication of this news, even Jimmy, who was never a Saint, understood this. "Pack up my bike in the second truck. Take all the supplies you can stuff into the other trucks as well. Keep your armor on and stay frosty until I give the command to topple the entire city over..." She states before turning to the man behind her. "Jimmy, I want you to find a place just outside the city to hide our stash until we can find a suitable place to store all of our equipment. Try not to get any attention to yourself in the meantime..."
Jimmy frowned softly, but he nodded. "If what I'm thinking is true, and Johnny got himself killed by the Syndicate, you realize how easily outnumbered we are..."
The woman didn't turn her head towards him, instead she stated simply. "The Saints will be there, if I know their boss well enough..." She states simply before stepping down the stairs. "Gunther, I need you to drive Truck one. Billy, Sam, take the back while I take shotgun..."
The cigarette smoke flew softly out of Phillipe's nostrils, his head bent to the side as Viola brushed some make up on his cheek. Really, he felt embarrassed that he had one of the DeWynters applying something like make-up upon himself, but when you have one of the largest purple bruises that took up nearly the entire left side of your face, and if you were the leader of one of the biggest multinational organizations, you'd place make-up on your face too.
He would heal, and his scientists would clone him a new eye to replace his old one, for now he will be forced to cover it up. The talk with Killbane and Matt Millar gave him the control he needed to keep the Saints from gaining a foothold in this city.
Oddly enough, he wished he had gotten a hold of these two prior to arriving in Steelport. Matt Millar was by far one of the best assets he has gained in the last ten years, with there being only two other Hackers that were either equal or better than Millar himself. Aiden Pearce was his number one man, though the fool had a vendetta, which was not profitable. Kinzie Kensington was another that was on his list, though she was only one little girl while Matt had himself a rather sizable gang.
Granted, he would have to tolerate the little boy stuttering every time he saw him, but his talents were worth that cost. Still, to keep Matt from suddenly going berserk, Phillipe left someone in his gang...Lili, a Japanese girl who joined the gang as one of their specialists. Really, all it took was Lili flashing enough skin and the entire gang was under Phillipes control.
Killbane on the other hand, was the most powerful thug he had ever met. He has seen Killbane several times and noted that Killbane has only taken a very seldom amount of Steroids, making this man nothing more than beast as most of that physic was natural. Still, Killbane was a rabid dog, one that needed to be on a constant tight leash.
That leash was named Máximo Montés, Killbane's right hand man. Unlike Killbane, Montés was an addict to steroids, though somewhat of a genius in using it. The man could make his own cocktail filled with the right concoction of the drugs to make him massive, though nothing compared to Killbane. Still, it gave Phillipe the edge, handing over enough money for said drugs and thus earning Montés' loyalty. Killbane has been kept under control ever since, what with a wingman telling him if that was a good idea or not.
He sighed lightly as he placed his cigarette in his mouth. These two new gangs were strong, and really if it weren't for money, the two would be rampaging across Steelport if they wanted. Control was a necessity, and control was what he wanted for the Saints. Get a foothold with the Saints meant getting a hold of Ultor, and thus even greater power for the Syndicate. How was he to know the wall that was the Saints was so uncontrolled? Like a raging bear scampering through a village. And now that bear was in Steelport, and though he had plenty of weapons to deal with the Saints, he needed to make sure that everything was truly under control.
Kiki suddenly stepped into the room with a cell in her hand. "...Mr. Loren, sir. Marko is on the phone..."
...speaking of uncontrolled...
Loren sighed as he gathered the cellphone, placing it to the ear that wasn't bruised. "This is not the time, Marko..."
The voice on the other side was friendly enough, "Well hey pops, I hear ya lost an eye just a few hours ago. The hell happened?"
Loren grumbled, last thing he wanted to hear was the voice of his very crass son. "Nothing that won't be dealt with. The main damage has been repaired and now my people are on the hunt..."
There was a long pause. "...Kiki said it was the Saints, right? The hell are you doing over there, hunting them with elephant guns?" Another pause, though there was a snicker on the other side. "Oh, this I gotta see..."
That made Loren flinch. "Marko, you have your own city to control, you stay in Liberty City, the two gangs in Steelport shall handle this mess alone..."
"You have too much confidence in them, Pops." Marko stated flatly. "And really, Liberty City is as controlled and well oiled as it's gonna get. If it weren't for last months gross revenue from my city, you wouldn't be having any more of those damned 'big brute' idiots you like making. Besides, I'm already on a plane..."
Loren suddenly jumped out of his chair, smearing a bit of the make-up that Viola had just brushed on. "You what!?"
"Hey, you heard me pops, I'm heading to Steelport right now, my subordinates in Liberty City already know what they're doing and don't need me there for the time being. Besides, you're going against the Saints! Sounds like fun, pops..." Loren could hear the grin running across Marko's face. "Besides, I think you'll need one pair of extra hands on this case. Ta-tah!"
The phone clicked before Loren could utter another word. For a moment, Loren just pulled the phone from his ear to look at it, then sighed and held it so Kiki could grab it from him. "...Tell the maids to clean up the extra room on floor sixty seven, it seems my son is coming to visit.
Loren sat back down and rubbed his head as Kiki walked off...completely missing Viola's light smile upon hearing that. The Rabid dog on one side, a silly little boy on the other, and now his psychotic son coming in to try and handle this rampaging bear on the streets of Steelport.
No words could express his thoughts beyond...awww crap...
...
Hopefully you folks enjoy the story, please R/R and let me know if I need to edit anything!