The start will be a bit slow but, things will start pacing a bit faster soon. You will be introduced to one enemy in this story, who's a major part, so watch out for that. Hope you enjoy, and make sure to leave a review.

A paramedic felt around Zac's ribs as he winces in pain. It felt sore, with a small stabbing pain following each touch. The time that passed felt like forever, making Zac look at his phone to see his clock. Causing the paramedic to repeatedly inform him not to take out his phone. Zac gave up and waited patiently for the paramedic to speak about his ribs.

"Yeah," agrees the paramedic to himself as he nods his head. "It's not broken. But, you should rest a little."

Zac sighs with disappointment, he was happy that his ribs weren't broken, but the paramedic saying that didn't take away the pain. He stood up from the step of the ambulance and looked around. He was at least glad that his deep cut on his forehead was cared for. Still, the pain came and went. Something he had to temporarily live with.

"Thanks." said Zac quietly, as he glanced at the paramedic behind him.

The paramedic finished putting away his kit, and looked up at him. "Yep."

Zac began to stroll around the scene, news reporters were covering the latest details of the shootout. He turned to Jane Valderamma and saw her staring straight at the camera, with a cold, serious look upon her face. Ordinary faces of news reporters around scenes where death was involved. Her nasal voice sounded the same though, which came to mind that it seemed her voice never changed character. A bit boring, but somehow people endured it, if they were ever in pain listening to her.

Zac felt his cellphone ring in his pocket, which caused him jump, forgetting that he had his cellphone with him. He walked to somewhere quieter and grabbed his cellphone without looking at the contact, and answered.

"Hello?"

"Where in the world are you?" questioned his work buddy, Shane Taylor. His serious tone hints the amount of trouble Zac could possibly be in.

"Did you not even hear the news?" scoffed Zac, as if it were obvious. "You know, it's unbelievable if you guys don't even know what happened to me. I could've died!", he on purposely whined, as a joke.

"Yeah, I don't know what happened." answered Shane, truthfully.

"I was caught in a shooting." sighed Zac. "You know what, I'm coming, I'll be there soon."

"You better, there's some dickish cops here thinking that you are out slackin'." informed Shane.

The line clicked off and Zac put his cellphone back in his pocket. He tried finding the nearest cab, which he succeeded in. Sunset came as he reached the police station. It's been a hell of a day, he wouldn't be surprised if someone started more chaos into his work life. It'd be thing he signed up for, though he doesn't make much money.

Zac entered the police station, waving at other cops as they leave or walk around the station. He made it to his desk, which he found Shane by, to his own delight.

Shane was leaning back on Zac's desk, with his arms crossed. His dark blonde hair shined a bit from the lighting. His dark brown eyes complimenting the color of his hair. With his dark blonde stubble fitting in with his physical , and mental character. He looked around the age of 30, which wasn't the truth, as he was 26. The stubble surely put years on him.

"You are so screwed." smiled Shane, with his white teeth shining. "Other detectives found more evidence than us, we have to get our asses into gear if we want to win this."

"I'm not all for a bet." explained Zac as he grabbed paperwork that sat neatly in a stack on the left side of his desk. He shooed Shane off his desk, and took off his brown leather jacket, setting it on his chair. As he was doing those movements, he spoke, "I actually want to catch The Saints because it's my job."

"You don't like competition do you?" questioned Shane, staring at Zac, waiting for an answer.

Zac looked at Shane, whom was behind him, stilling waiting patiently, and quietly.

"I don't care for it." he answered. Staying as sincere as possible. What does it matter, he thought, money is nothing, it's just a way for people to do bad things. Or, in this case, a good thing.

Shane nodded understandingly. He walked over to his desk that was across from Zacs'.

"Crap." shot Zac as he realized an important event. "Didn't Chief Troy Bradshaw get exchanged to here in Steelport?"

"Yep." answered Shane, sitting down on his office chair and logging on to his computer. "He's not talking to anyone at the moment. He's not in Steelport yet till Monday."

"Wha-,"

Shane cut off Zac by chuckling. "It's Wednesday."

"I knew that." whispered Zac, furrowing his eyebrows, reading his case files, feeling a bit offended by the help, as if he really needed it.

I'm not taking any 'I don't knows'." cautioned a voice, with aggression that fitted perfectly with his thick British accent. He slapped his victim with so much force the room was filled with the slapping sound.

"I don't fucking know!" cried another voice. The voice that belong to a helpless man whom was on the verge of tears. He looked at the man with British accent helplessly, shaking his arms on his chair he was tied to. Trying to get out. But, failing every time, losing hope of ever getting out.

"You're gonna know William Siers once you're done with him!" spat William bragging about his power, danger, and how he could use it.

The tied man looked down at the floor, avoiding William at all costs, it's not worth it anymore. Either way, he knew he was going to die. "I'm not gonna tell you anything, asshole." he said quietly, hoping William didn't hear him.

"What?" asked William, he heard the man, but wanted to confirm what he said. He slapped the man, trying to force an answer out of him. Later, giving up, and grabbing his Desert Eagle from his belt loop.

William sighs and looks down at the man, while standing up. "You know, if only you could just co-operate with me. It'd be a pleasure. But, people like you make it hard not to kill."

"Wa-," protested the man, not even finishing his word, he was shot in the head, being killed instantly. He didn't have time to possibly feel pain. The last thing he ever saw, and did, was being tied up to a chair, and watching an evil man shoot him, thinking it's the right thing.

A gentleman of a large build walked over to William, waiting for orders. William heaved a heavy breath and spat on the dead man's body. Being ruthless, which was his normal character emotion, what seemed like for 24/7.

"Charles, we can't get anything of The Saints." William spoke, not believing the words, nothing could be as hard as a job as his. Too much stress made his dark ginger hair start to fall, causing small bald spots.

Charles nodded, trying to be compassionate. "May-,"

"No, your idea is wrong, mine is always right." William cut off. Not even giving Charles a chance to even start his own idea. "The police get in the way, other Saints get in the way, I have a job for you."

Charles stared down at the floor, and nodded, rolling his eyes in annoyance a bit. "What?"

William smiled, putting his Desert Eagle back in his belt loop. "Kill every cop, and Saint you see. I am fucking tired of them." he breathed while he paused. "Just get the original Saints, The Leader most importantly. Others could be Pierce, but, he's too...hard to find. I never see him, which is not normal, is it? Anyways, another example could be a ray of sunlight Shaundi."

"You said something about the cops, what do I do?" questioned Charles. "I'm suppose to kill everyone of em'? That's a bit tiring."

William looked at Charles and shined his huge yellow teeth, smoking, and drinking did major damage. "Find a cop, anyone that wants to catch The Saints just as much as I do, and kill him or her. I'm the one who's suppose to catch The Saints! They've killed my troops!"

William started walking to the exit and opened the door halfway, looking back at Charles. "Get to work, and take the body to the trash while you're at it. Good luck."