Third chapter's up! Hope you guys enjoy!


CHAPTER 3: In the Beginning, Part 3

Ben's POV:

Johnny Gat looked at me like I was crazy. I had told him I wanted to rebuild the Third Street Saints so we could show Stilwater who's boss.

"Are you fuckin' serious?", asked Gat.

I grabbed him by the collar and looked deep into his eyes (which were still covered by those doofy sunglasses he wore.)

"I have never been more serious in my life, Gat. I want to bring back the Saints," I answered.

Aisha looked at me. She was concerned.

"Why would you want to reform the Saints? Ever since they disbanded, things have been going smooth for Stilwater. Well, outside of Johnny almost getting the death sentence, that is," she told me.

"You guys don't get it! I remember hearing about you guys on the streets; how you took down the Vice Kings, the Los Carnales, and the Westside Rollerz to try and lower the violence in the streets. Making Stilwater safe again was your job, and you did it so wondrously! What could have possibly happened to you that you had to retire?", I said so passionately. Gat set down his beer and got up, still keeping his gaze on me.

"You want to know what happened? Fine. After we cleared out the other gang members, our leader Julius made this rookie his right-hand man. Then after we saved Julius from being killed by this asshat of a police chief, Mayor Hughes asked the rookie to come and see him. Then the yacht they were on fucking exploded, and we never saw both of them again," he answered calmly, trying very hard not to go into a rage and flip the table.

"I heard about that," chimed in Sam. "It was a few days before my dad died in an accident at the construction site he was working for."

"Anyways, back to the story," continued Gat. "A few months after the yacht incident, the Saints went to pot. Julius went off the grid after hearing of the rookie's death, I had to quit because me and Aisha got engaged and I didn't want our kids to get involved, Dex…don't even get me started on that bitch…but the real kicker was Julius' first second-in-command, the guy who currently runs the Stilwater PD:

Troy fuckin' Bradshaw."

I was confused. Who was Dex? Who was this "Julius" that Gat resented? Who in the fiery pits of Hell was Troy Bradshaw?

"Who's Troy?", asked Sam nonchalantly. Saving me the punishment that was to follow this question was one of the things I'd have to thank him for.

Gat got up, threw his bottle against the wall, and grabbed Sam and held him in a headlock. Sam tried to break free, but Gat kept strengthening his grip. Sam's face was turning blue, and I had to do something. Thankfully, Aisha wrapped her arms around Gat and tried pulling him off from Sam. Gat did loosen up though and got up, leaving Sam gasping for air.

As he sat back on the couch, he looked at the wall where the shattered remains of the bottle lay and he put his head in the hands. Aisha put her hands on his shoulder and comforted him. As Sam got back up, he looked at Aisha in disbelief.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID I SAY? ALL I SAID WAS, 'WHO'S TROY?'", he screamed at her as he jumped over the couch and resumed his seat.

"It's a topic that Johnny's too sensitive about. He doesn't have to talk about it if he wants," explained Aisha calmly but firmly. Gat pushed her arms away and looked at her.

"No, Eesh. They have to know," he said. Aisha nodded understandingly, and got up.

"I'll be in the kitchen if you need me, honey," she assured him.

As she left for the kitchen, Gat gripped the table and was ready to flip it, but he let go and relaxed. He then looked at us, with a look in his eyes that seemed to resemble a strange combination of hurt, betrayal, rage and anger.

"Troy was Julius' first second-in-command, long before the rookie. He was in charge of helping us take out the other gangs who ruled this city. It was going great at first, but then, after the yacht incident, his true self was revealed…"


Stilwater, 2006, a few weeks after the yacht incident…

"The Third Street Saints were falling apart. Dex had run off and vanished without a trace, the rookie was dead, and Lin had drowned thanks to William Sharp getting involved. The other guys left one by one, until it was just Julius, me, and several of the guys. But Troy was nowhere to be found, and Julius had put out an APB for him.

Some of us had gotten together at Freckle Bitch's to hang out one day when we heard from one of our boys that Troy had been spotted in the suburbs near the old Price mansion, which had been turned into a bit of a hangout for the Saints after the Westside Rollerz were disbanded. So we got into our cars and decided to pay a little visit.

When we got there, Julius and Troy were duking it out on the driveway. Julius had a knife to Troy's throat, and he was screaming stuff like 'Why'd you betray us, Troy?!', 'You were like a brother to us, man!', and 'You sold us out, you fucker!' We pried the two away from each other and held them back. After we calmed things down, we asked Julius what was up with Troy.

He told us that Troy was actually an undercover cop and that he had been working for the precinct the whole fucking time. Troy said that he joined the Saints because he wanted to get rid of the gang violence, but it never occurred to us that we were part of the equation. I wanted to kill Troy right then and there, but Julius let him go, saying that the beating was punishment enough.

But I'll never forgive that fucker. He lied to us, he used us and betrayed us in the worst way a person could betray anyone: he was working for the police, and he kept it so well-hidden we didn't even know."


Present day…

"Flash forward to two years after that. The Saints had been disbanded, Julius had gone off the grid, me and Eesh got engaged, and Troy had been promoted to chief of police. Wanting to satisfy my lust for one more kill before I retired for good, I got a sniper rifle from one of my buddies in the SEALs and traveled to this gala they were hosting at the Marshall Winslow Recreation Center.

I waited on top of this house, and waited for what seemed like hours. The first few people to come out were some cops, a bunch of paparazzi and that Valderamma chick. And then out comes Troy.

Troy was looking so pompous with that fancy-ass cigarette in his one hand, that badge of honor in his other and that stupid fucking mustache on his face. I had him perfectly lined up on the shot, and then a fly buzzed by my ear and threw me off-course. I fired accidentally, and thankfully the shot hit no one. But since the whole precinct was there, they found me easily and before I knew it, I was in the back of a cruiser with handcuffs being taken to the holding cell.

I used my one phone call to tell Eesh what had happened, and they found out I had killed 387 people during my time with the Saints and that was supposedly enough for me to go straight to the chair. But then you two showed up and here I am," he finished up.

Now I knew why Gat resented Troy, and I wasn't going to hold it against him. He had every right to be pissed.

"Sorry we ever brought it up," I told him.

"It's fine," he replied. "I just needed to let it out due to the stress of the trial."

"Can we get back to business, please?", asked Sam. He didn't want to waste another minute talking about the past and wanted to focus on starting up the new and improved Third Street Saints.

"Yeah. Sure, Sam," answered Gat.

"OK. So first things first, what do we have to do to inform people that the Saints are coming back?" I asked.

"Well, we need to remind these people who we are," replied Gat.

Aisha had come back with a bowl of pomegranate slices and we dug in. It was tangy at first, but I got used to it as time went on.

"And this can't wait 'til after dinner?" she questioned us.

"No," we replied all at once. It surprised Sam, since it almost felt like we were a collective hivemind. But it didn't faze me a single second.

"So what's your guys' plan?", asked Gat. He wanted to hear our ideas, and we didn't know how to react. It felt jarring to say the least.

"We start up a crew, and once we got that, we take back this city and show Stilwater who's boss," I responded.

"Sounds good," replied Gat.

"And just where did you three plan on having this little meeting?", questioned Aisha.

It never really came up to us about that; we had planned on getting a crew together, but we never really thought about where our base of operations was going to be.

We looked at Aisha, then each other, then we looked around the house. Aisha must have had the reaction speed of a cheetah, because she was already shaking her head.

"No," she replied bluntly.

"Well, this place is pretty spacious," suggested Gat as he got up.

"No," Aisha replied again.

"The color's very soothing," added Sam as he finished ate another slice of pomegranate.

"No!", Aisha replied yet again. Gat turned and looked at her.

"Come on, Eesh," complained Gat.

"This ain't no fuckin' gang clubhouse, Johnny. And like you said, you don't want our kids to get involved in the gang," Aisha retorted. She had made a really good point.

She turned her back on Gat and crossed her arms. Gat looked at us and we could see disappointment in his eyes.

"Change of plans," he simply responded. Me and Sam got up from the couch.

"We gotta get a new place?", Sam asked.

"Yeah, you two got it. Come on; I know a place," said Gat as we walked out the door.


3RD PERSON POV:

Ben, Sam and Gat left the house and got into the Bootlegger. Gat got out his phone and placed it on a phone stand on the dashboard. On it was a map with directions.

"Just head over to the old mission house; we should be able to set up shop there," directed Gat. Ben pressed on the pedal and they sped off into the night.

"Why can't we just set up shop at your previous base?", asked Sam.

"You mean the church? Ultor's renovated it and turned it into a tourist trap," responded Gat.

Ben and Sam had heard about Ultor a while ago; it was a mega-corporation that had branches in every line of retail from clothes and cell phones to weapons manufacturing and nuclear waste.

"Goddammit," answered Ben. He didn't like tourist traps all that much before he got sent to juvie, but now he had more reason to hate them.

"Sorry, guys. We gotta find a new place, and the mission house will be perfect," replied Gat as they drove into the major part of the city.

"Aren't religious buildings a 'been there, done that' kind of thing?", asked Sam. It was a very good question; it seemed to Ben that it was almost a bit of a cliché that street gangs would use religious buildings such as churches and mission houses as a front for their bases.

"We're not staying in the mission, guys," chuckled Gat. At that moment, Ben and Sam sighed in relief. They wouldn't be going cliché with their new base.

"Now, check it out. Years ago, an earthquake dropped part of the city below sea level, and rather than clearing out the rubble, the city built over it. There's an abandoned hotel below the mission. That'll work for us," explained Gat.

"Alright, I'm down. But is there a catch?", asked Ben. He knew that with new bases, they'd have to fight to win them.

"We gotta evict the current tenants," answered Gat.

"Of course…", simply replied Sam. They drove over a bridge and through Bavogian Plaza until they got to the missions. After they got out, they went to the truck and got out their weapons: Ben had his two pistols and an SMG, Gat had an assault rifle, and Sam had a crowbar and shotgun. As soon as they loaded up, they headed for the door.


Ben's POV:

We got up to the mission door and opened it up. Inside was a graffiti-covered missions church that was littered with cockroaches and smelled like 5-month-old sushi.

We looked around until Sam found the stairway down into the cellars of the mission. We walked downstairs and found ourselves walking through a decrepit hallway.

Eventually, we found the entrance to the hotel and we slipped quietly in. We hid amongst the shadows and I saw the outline of the hotel.

Although it was decrepit, it still had a decent bar, a firepit with some couches, and some guys in green walking around. I looked towards Gat.

"Who are these fuckers, Gat?", I whispered.

"Must be the Sons of Samedi. I'll explain later, Benny," he whispered back. We heard a cracking sound, and we turned to see Sam leaning back against the pillar by the stairs.

Gat reached out to grab him, but the pillar broke and Sam fell backwards onto the floor. The crash alerted the Samedi goons, and any chance we had for stealth kills was gone. We raced down the stairs and shot at the Samedi guys. Sam got up, dazed and confused, but eventually recovered and joined us.

"NO PRISONERS!", he screamed as he began thwacking the Sons of Samedi into the ground with the crowbar. Gat looked at me and I shrugged.

Suddenly, more of these guys came from out the door and we shot them down. We exited the hotel area and found ourselves in the catacombs of Old Stilwater.

As druggies and junkies cowered their heads and ran out, me, Sam and Gat were shooting down Samedis on the ground and up in the rafters. But then, from out of nowhere, a bum tackled me and held me on the ground. Sam noticed this and pulled the guy off me using his crowbar. He helped me up and we looked at Gat, who was finishing off the Samedis.

"Yo, Gat! There's bums down here as well! What should we do with 'em?", shouted Sam. It echoed through the catacombs.

"Clear them out! Leave no one alive, Sam!", answered Gat. Sam pulled out his double-barreled shotgun and pumped it. He raced into the direction of the bums and shouted his full name:

"SAMUELLLLLLLLLL JOPLIN!"

I followed behind, choosing not to shout my name. We saw several shacks littering the area, and bums were surrounding Sam.

"Benny! Help me! I'm being attacked by homeless veterans! Aaaaaaaaughhhh!", he said dramatically as the bums overwhelmed him.

I grabbed one of the bums and threw him into the shack, destroying it. When the bums saw the wreckage, they surrounded it and feebly tried to rebuild it.

A lightbulb appeared in my head, and I looked towards Sam.

"Sam! Shoot the shacks! That's the bums' weak point!", I said to him.

"Gladly," Sam smirked. He pumped the shotgun and shot at several shacks, bringing them down. I grabbed several of the bums and threw them into the shacks.

The sound I heard was an odd mixture of wood and boxes being destroyed, bums muttering and screaming as they tried to kill me and Sam, and bullets entering their mangy, greasy bodies.

Eventually, we destroyed the shacks and Gat came over. He saw the bums trying to feebly reassemble the shacks and nodded to us. He loaded his assault rifle with the last of the magazines and I loaded my guns too.

"Clear the bums out, men! Whoever shoots the most gets 500 points!", shouted Sam as he whipped out his crowbar and ran at the bums yet again.

Me, Gat and Sam were just shooting up bums like we were old friends who hadn't seen each other since high school. Shots were fired, bums were falling, and not a single fuck was given through it all.

Eventually, the last bum came down and we looked at each other. We smiled, knowing we just cleared out a whole goddamn underground hotel.

We re-entered the main area and looked around. Gat shoved a junkie's corpse off one of the couches and sat down. Propping his feet up on a box, he looked at us as we examined the rafters above us.

"So, what you guys think?", he asked. Sam looked at him and shrugged.

"It's kind of a shithole, Gat," he replied. He sat down on the couch and joined him.

"True, but it's a shithole with potential," responded Gat. He put his hands behind his head and sighed contently. Sam scooched over and patted the remaining empty seat on the couch.

"I don't know, guys," I said. I wasn't sure about this place as our new crib. It was still riddled with dead bodies and such.

"Just think about it, Benny. A stripper pole, some flat screens…maybe some nicer furniture, who knows?", proposed Gat. I smiled and joined him and Sam on the couch. Propping my feet up on the couch, I looked at Gat and smiled.

"You had us at 'stripper pole', Gat," I smirked. As we watched the fire, Gat sighed again and stuck out his fist.

"Fuckin' A…," he sighed as I bumped his fist. We watched the fire well into the late hours of the night, at which point me and Sam got up, wished goodnight to Johnny, and returned to Sam's apartment for a long rest.


That was fun, wasn't it? Leave a review and tell me what you think!

- RhapsodyBlueVA