A/N:Worked really hard on this chapter! It's so much fun writing these characters. Looking over my earlier chapter I see how I begged for reviews, SORRY! Oh my god, I was like 12 back then, young and dumb. (And still young and dumb.) Enough of me,enjoy the chapter!
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Pierce's legs boiled like fried eggs as they were slowly dipped into smoke. His whole body was being dunked into dancing flames as he glided through the smoky air.
Pierce's heart leapt like a frog. This was it. He'd never make an album again, or piss of the Boss- and damn it! No more Ne-Yo! Aw hell no! He was avoiding thinking about Shaundi, he wouldn't think about Shaundi. Don't think about Shaundi!
The blown hole in the roof was meteres away from his feet. Shit. Oh fucking shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Can't that shit kill you? Smoke and all that shit? It never killed Shaundi, and she smoked everyday and anyday before. Crap, crap, crap! Get it together Pierce! He was dropping, faster and faster. Three metres left, two, one. That's when a thought hit him.
What would the Boss do?
Pierce withdrew his arms from the parachutes strap and lunged forward mid-air. His heart lurched and he could feel his legs burning up. Grasping the ledge hovering over the hole with his finger tips, Pierce yelled in agony.
"Get your shit together, man!"
He felt the tops of his fingers slipping and sliding. He beat his legs in the air wildly. Breathing became impossible. Thick plumes of smoke arose and coiled around his body, if he let go he'd fall into a pool of blackness- or worse, a pool of fire.
Pierce struggled immensely, his body felt like it was melting. He was just an icecream on a hot sunny day. Damn, he loved icecream, with rainbow sprinkles, and chocolate sprinkles, and raspberry sprinkles, and strawberry sprinkles..
"Damn it! I should of lifted weights, not icecream cones!" Pierce said, before his hands no longer gripped the edge and he met what was down below.
#
The black smog stabbed at Amber's eyes. Really? This was what she got in return for trying to wipe out Bradshaw? This was bullshit! Now her cloths were ruined- and oh yeah, now she was gonna die!
"I swear if I die I'm going to kill you Bradshaw!" Amber screamed, coughing violently. Her trembling hand grasped her throat. Her cheeks flared, in fact her whole body flared. Vomit slid from her mouth. Open your eyes! Everything was happening too fast.
Rumble. Rumble. Rumble.
Amber's eyelids popped open and she felt fear. Nothing but it. Not because of the blistering fire, or the scary shakes of the building, but because her new Gucci shoes now had vomit on them! Now she felt alone. Bradshaw? Where was the bastard? The blazing flames were they're to guide her- And to burn her limited edition One Direction top? Hell no! No more! This was cruel. She needed to get them to safety, all the cloths. She pondered leaving her red leather jacket behind, but no man left behind! If she got out fast, she may be able to revive the Gucci shoes, but she'd have to work fast.
Ambling her way through the scorching rubble and fallen bricks, Amber kept a firm grip over her mouth and inhaled as little as she could. This smoke was venom to her, and to her black Tommy Hilfigure jeans as well it seemed! The sizzling, steaming fire reflected light, assisting Amber's vision.
A fire exit door three meteres in front of her was shut right, waiting to be opened. Her body had never been under this much pressure before. Her head felt weak. Everything was blurry, the door was fuzzy, all of a sudden there was three doors. Shit.
Amber's legs collapsed beneath her, as her bones smacked hard against the floor beneath her. Defeated. She's smiled lazily as she lay on her back, admiring the hole she had blown on the roof. She was just in time to witness someone fall through the whole, and land on her face.
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The angry flames scorched the tiles and ignited picture frames hanging off the wall. They melted like ice cream, their contents dribbling down the walls and the pictures seizing to exist.
Harley was gleaming. She loved destruction. It was so pretty, watching things burn and crumble to tiny pieces. Oh, the beautiful scent of smoke made her almost cry in happiness, it was so nice! Her purple strands of hair danced like the hot embers as she skipped into the endless offices, singing joyfully.
"Mr Bradshaw! Come out, come out wherever you are!"
One room was indulged in flames, the flames licked her boots, baking her feet. She loved every moment of it. Harley raised her palm above the blaze, it flickered and scalded her skin. The woman laughed hysterically, reaching further and further into fire, screaming insanely as her blue uniform lit up in a blaze.
"Assistant! How're ya doin' back there?" Her Boss Brooks yelled from another room. Harley swiftly retrieved a compact knife, and dug in into the fabric of her uniform. The jagged edges cut all the way around the fiery sleeve, and it quickly dropped into the blistering fire. Harley's arm was concealed in blood, as the knife had bit into her while removing her sleeve. There was so much blood she couldn't even see the burn scars. She loved it. She loved all the hot blood being smeared all over Police outfit. It felt great. She was a psycho, a weirdo, but no one else suspected it.
Brooks scanned her area. Her eyes darted from side to side, confirming that Troy wasn't in her presence. Everywhere she went she analysed everything and everyone. She was apart of the force, she helped citizens and protected them from crime. She had to be cautious, her life was always at risk. Brooks was thought to be string and confident, but had learned quickly that being different meant you were less then everyone else. Everyone laughed at her, they all doubted her, until the day she joined the force.
Busting cases and stomping out crime, that was the life of Brooks. Ever since she had become Captain of the Stilwater PD, she walked with pride. She had her title to represent of course. Brooks was just one step from being at the top. At the top of the tower it was Chief of Police Troy Bradshaw, Brooks had been his handler while he was undercover with the Third Street Saints, it was weird that he was giving her commands now. Besides that. Troy was a good leader, and she admired him a lot. A bit too much.
Brooks knew he was a man of many colours. He had a very dark shade of purple. Troy was known as the knife who cut the Third Street Saints apart. After years of rebuilding, the Saints found themselves knocking the Syndicate from their pedestal in Steelport. Life for the Saints was glamorous once they had claimed Steelport. For two years they relaxed in pure luxury, letting Ultor promote the Saints brand across all nations, reeling the money in. Life shone and glimmered for the Saints, until Eric Gryphon - CEO of Ultor - decided the partnerships end was due.
It seemed the relaxing and resting was a bad idea after that. The Saints life was no longer showered with money. But they didn't resist, they didn't fight Ultor and win back the money. They owned Steelport, it was theirs. They didn't need money, because that wasn't what the Saints were about. Rumours spread that their Boss moved into a small apartment and spent her days training and guiding her gang. Brooks admired the Saint in some aspects, but not so much in others.
Respect. Honour. Pride. Maybe Brooks had more in common with the Saint then she thought. Brooks strived to pass on her qualities, and right now, she was. The Officer was guiding her assistant, Harley, to be more like her. She was a slow learner, but her combat skills and bravery were impressive.
Back to the task at hand. The Third Street Saints had been returning to Stilwater, and Viola DeWynter betrayed them , and tried capturing them. But, after seeing this televised live on TV, Troy sent Tobias to rescue the Saints. Of course, Viola countered the plan. She contacted an unknown ally, who sent an assassin to kill Troy. This 'assassin called in some sort of gang, who attacked the Police station.
Meanwhile on the other side of town, at the University, the arrival of the Saints was being celebrated. A man holding Tobias's wife Laura as ahostage entered, along with a crew of enemies, and a killing spree started. The Saints either had to save Troy, or Laura. It was clear what choice they had made. Brooks was getting all this information from her comrades high in the sky, flying in helicopters through the sky and zapping foes along the way.
The helicopters detected C4 bombs on their radars, and soon a scary explosion took place on the top floor. Brooks was now in a frantic rush to save her Boss, if he was still alive. And the faith of the Saints? That was unknown.
"Boss? Boss!" Harley's jolly voice called, as she flicked her purple hair behind her hairs and grinned playfully. "First floor cleared commander, moving onto location two," Harley said in a robotic tone, saluting and bursting out in laughter. "Boy, I'm good at impressions, huh?"
Brooks knew there was something unsettling about Harley, something that screamed psycho. It have her chills. Brooks opened her mouth to reply, but something caught her attention. Red, dripping blood trickling down Harley's arm and spilling across the tiles. It was horrifying, it was disgusting. What startled Brooks is that Harley didn't seem to care.
"Assistant, you alright there?" She questioned, looking dazzed and puzzled at the same time, her index finger pointing at the blood.
Before Harley replied, Troy's voice interjected. "Fucking bitch! C4s? She's crazy.." Groans and coughs echoed from the hall. "Help! Anyone? Gabrielle? Gabrielle!"
Harley slapped Brooks with the nose of her gun, cackling bitterly. Brooks slipped to floor and three shots hit her leg in success. Harley climbed atop of her Boss, and her teeth sunk into Brooks neck. The infuriating wails could be heard from Mars, but they were soon silenced as Harley's pistol whacked Brooks skull five more times. Then another five. Then another five.
Harley dug her combat knife into her own arm, screeching hysterically as tears rolled down her flushed cheeks. She kicked and screamed like a child, her face hot and her head frustrated.
Troy Bradshaw appeared at the entrance, Harley had painted the perfect picture in his confused little head. His face was red and his cheeks were concealed in bruises and marks. His left ear was shrouded in thick crusty blood and appeared to be slit beyond repair. His blue shirt was burned and ripped, and the police badge was hanging on edge. His grey slacks were roasted black and smelt like smoke. His arms were covered in deep cuts and scars, while his sickly pale hands were dark with blood.
"She tried to kill me!" Harley cried, her hands quivering and quaking with fear. She covered her face, sobbing drastically and wiping salty tears from her face.
Troy scrambled towards her, and dropped to his knees. He took her palms in his, and his eyes never left hers. "Shh, you're OK now, we're gonna get out of her, stay strong, ight?" Troy's voice was dry, scratchy but soothing nonetheless. Cigarettes had affected his voice quite a lot.
Harley wept more, then sniffed. "Do you promise we'll be okay?"
"I promise."
They both rose, and Troy lead her out of the room. As his eyes were somewhere else, Harley's eyes narrowed and she smiled a dark smile. Death was so satisfying, so beaitiful, so fulfilling.
"W-Where are we going?" Harley's squeaky voice asked, soft and terrified.
Troy knew where he was meant to be. He drew in a deep breath, and turned to Harley. "We're going to the Saints hideout,"
The two exited the room, and Troy glimpsed back, catching a look at the bloody, frozen corpse. Brooks seemed so lost, yet so full of life. It was too much for him. He felt that she was alive, that she was still breathing. And just for moment, Troy thought he saw a pair of eyes staring back at him.
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"Oh my god you've crushed my golden Ralph Lauren watch!" Amber gasped.
"Damn girl you bony as fuck!" Pierce helped as he heaved himself off Amber.
"Who the fuck are you? Superman? Oh, my, god! Your my knight in shining armour!" Amber screeched uncontrollably. "You flew through the roof to save me! This is like, the most coolest, most exciting, most romantic thing anyone has ever done like ever! I just have to tweet about this, oh my gooooood!"
Pierce gulped and panted, inhaling a mouthful of smoke. It tasted disgusting, like.. Salad. Actually, anything healthy. If it ain't got sugar in it it's not worth trying.
"Listen you crazy ass bitch!" He bellowed, gripping her shoulders and shaking them forcefully'. "We gunna' die if you don't snap outta it!"
The smoke was poisonous and agonising. The air was fuckin' toxic. Worse than Lindsay Lohan on crack. That bitch was craaazy. Everything was going so fast, it sure was a freaky Friday. No pun intended. Pierce had sprang from the helicopter to land on the roof, but no, some dumbass had to blow the roof off. Then, he gluided right into the hole, fucking perfect.
"But- Your my superman.. My Prince Charming.." She wailed impatiently. Her sentence descended to muffled coughs and screeches.
"I ain't your anything! Now let's go!" Pierce grasped her hand tight, and dragged her away. Amber shouted abuse as she was torn away from her spot.
The fire was aglow and dancing with hot flames. The embers seemed to surround the two, Amber tugged her arm away from Pierce's tight grasp.
"There's a door! Open your freakin' eyes you loser!"
"Loser? Funny how two seconds ago I was your 'Knight in shining armour'," Pierce smirked, Amber growled. His shoulder smacked against the metal door and it burst open.
Amber swiftly shot out the door, her eyes darting onto the three flights of stairs. Thinking fast, her elbow slammed into Pierce's jaw and she laughed evilly.
"Catch ya later, Saint!" She chuckled.
Amber's fingers curled around the steel bannister, she rapidly threw her legs over the silver steel and dropped three floors. Bending her legs slightly, her Gucci heels clapped against the hard stone tiles.
Her lips curved as she hastily made way for the exit. She could sprint fast and hopped over any ruble or fallen bricks. Almost out. She was filled with a sense of joy, she wasn't gonna die. Phew.
She had just turned the coner when smack. Her nose crunched against Harley's head. Amber yelped in pain, her nose hurt like shit. Harley reacted quickly, clasping Amber's throat and squeezing tight. Now, it was Harley who was smiling.
She dumped Amber's unconscious body onto the floor, nodding her head and cackling joyfully. Troy's voice yelled from down the hall.
"Get your butt down here, quick Harley!"
Harley beamed. Her work here was done. She skipped gleefully along the hall, her thoughts of crushed skulls and strangled foes.
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Ramon wiped tears from his eyes, one hand shaking as the other clutched his gun. None of this should of happened, he shouldn't of gotten involved. Crime was the toxic that was ripping the world apart, he despised it.
Jane Valdarama squinted at him, her frame still. There was two ways she could handle this. Kill him, or talk him out of this situation. She needed to stay calm and let him know she wasn't going to harm him.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Her voice was soft and soothing, she sunk her tooth into her lips, hesitating. Slowly, Jane gently placed her gun on the ground. "I can help you, but you have to cooperate,"
Ramon shook, feeling the sweat drop from his face. "I- I can't do this!"
"You don't have to do anything, just put the gun down. We can talk. Just tell me, what's going on?" Her eyes met Laura's. Jane could sense her fear, as the other Woman trembled, heart weak and face pale.
"It wasn't me! I don't want to do this-" He stopped mid sentence, panting heavily. His face burned, anxiety dwelling inside him. Ramon didn't notice the petrified crowds stumbling away, or the loud shrieks coming from terrified civilians. He was too wrapped up in this crazy situation. His legs wobbled like an unstable house. His short brown hair was slick with grease, and his light baby blue eyes were filled with sorrow. His brows were dripping with sweat, the sweat that smelt like fear. It reminded him he was a loser, he wasn't strong like his brother had been, he'd never extract revenge for what the Saints had done to his poor, clueless brother. He was so overrun with emotions that time seemed to freeze.
"I was forced into this," Ramon's thick Hispanic voice admitted shakily. He felt ashamed with himself. He had went so far to get revenge, now he realised he wasn't going to get a drop of it. He had no excuse, he was holding an innocent Woman hostage. He was sick! What the hell was wrong with him? How could he ever feel anything with disgust. Ramon suddenly wished that he could embrace her with a hug, and tell her everything would be alright. He also wished someone would tell him everything would be alright.
Ramon knew his leader didn't trust him. Ramon was ripe with fear from day one, and he always remained that way. His Boss would certainly send in other crew members to wrap this job up, Ramon was just a distraction for the Police. His leader had everything planned out. The Saints would be tore weather to save their friend Laura, or Troy. One of them would die. Ramon's Boss obviously knew the Saints would choose Troy. The Police would be distracted trying to defend the citizens here, so Amber would be able to kill Troy easily with no Guards protecting the Station. And to stall the Third Street Saints, a squad of Ramon's crew was sent to the Police Station. The whole operation was going swimmingly, and it was near completetion, but he wouldn't be apart of it any longer. Cops and his Leader's crew would turn up any second, it was all down to these crucial moments.
"I'm sorry for everything," He whispered, his voice low and deep. Laura gave a shout of relief when his grasp eased and she was flung forward. Laura's chubby hands clasped around Jane, her eyes pressed against the reporter's shoulders as her tears leaked. Jane shushed her and patted her back, her eyes locked in contact with Ramon's. He gulped, and she knew those eyes like she had for all her life. They were filled with fear and regret. It made Jane shiver.
Laura sulked as her brown hair swayed in the light breeze. Her caramel eyes glaring at Ramon, the stare was cold and made him itch. But the right side of her pale lips started to curve slightly. All of a sudden Ramon felt she understood. He knew it was time. His feet turned, as he heard Police sirens blare in the distance.
His feet had carried him a metre away when he heard the the shot. Ramon quickly glimpsed back, he wished he hadn't. The silver bullet smacked against Jane's head, tearing her head and piercing her skull. Jane's corpse plummeted to the ground, her face slapping hard against the grass covered in blood.
Laura scrambled but the bullets stabbed her arms and sprayed her legs, crippling her frail fragile body. Blood splashed across Ramon's face, mixing with sweat and slowly dripping downwards. Reality slapped Ramon hard as his stomach twisted and he began to scream in horror. He wanted to run but his feet wouldn't budge. Laura's whimpers were as quiet as a hum. She made no movement, like a statue, or a frozen girl. What hurt Ramon the most was that he'd never be able to feel her pain. He'd never be able to pay back this debt. Ramon felt a sinking feeling. He hadn't even realised he'd collapsed, because a brand new type of fear was rushing over him. The fear of knowing this was all his fault. The fear that he would never be able to reverse this moment.
Sirens screamed and bullets flew through the air as his Boss's crew had arrived and engaged in battles against the Police. Ramon always believed the world was a cruel place because people did bad things. But now, now he knew it was true.
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Gabrielle's hand was on Donnie's shoulder, her nails digging into the flesh above his bone. He was her support as they ambled their way to the Saints HQ. She regularly stopped, panting and vomiting, and coughing. Donnie also picked up on all the things she was muttering.
"He was there.." She'd mumble. "I saw him.."
Saw who? Johnny. Donnie knew she saw Gat, he knew that look. He'd thought he'd saw Lin after her death a couple of times, but he never did.
"What the hell is happening?" Donnie asked, breaking the silence.
"I need to find them."
Her friends, he assumed. Pierce Washington and TV star Shaundi. She still hadn't answered the question, but he could put it aside.
"We will find them, I promise." Donnie assured her.
Gabrielle snorted. "You make a lot of promises, ones you never keep," She hissed, voice suddenly turning cold. She took her hand off his shoulder. "Promised the Rollers you'd be loyal, promised Maero you'd never betray him, promised Lin you'd always love her." She shot him a look and limped forward, laughing at his words. "Promise? Fuck that."
Donnie returned the glare. "She chose the Saints over me." He'd stopped walking, and shoved his hands in his pocket. "You know what it feels like to be hurt by someone you thought loved you."
Her feet froze. Gabrielle swung her head around and for a second and Donnie felt a shiver run down his spine. Her eyes were fixed on him, bloodshot red, it gave him chills. "You have no fucking idea what 'hurt' is. When you've lost more people then you can count of your fingers then you'll know what the word hurt means. But until then, you can piss off."
"Then maybe that's what I'll do." Donnie shot back, clenching his fists. He spun around and stomped in the other direction, muttering under his breath.
"Fine with me!" Gabrielle yelled back and began to go the other way, catching one last glimpse of the man who'd saved her life. Donnie saved Gabrielle the way her friends saved her. It hurt her inside because no matter how many times they saved her, she could never save them.
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The University was cloaked in blood. Innocent men and woman had been massacred from left to right, by a group of criminals. Silence stood. All were silent. All were dead.
Accept two.
One named Ramon who played smart and played dead. Until the murderous group was out of sight, Ramon scattered far away, out of sight and out of reach.
The other had just arrived. His jet red helicopter screaming to a halt as it pounded against the ground. His frantic cries echoing in the distance. His heart crunched inside, shattering into a million pieces. This was it, wasn't it?
Tobias's feet smacked against the ground as he hopped out from his helicopter. Sweat leaked from his scalp and slivered down his long brown dreads. His hurt hazel eyes reddened underneath. They choose Troy over Laura. His sweet, sweet Laura.
He dropped to his knees, his hands shaking, his heart wrenched inside. He buried his head in his hands and cried. Any of these people could be Laura. Any of them. This is what they'd done. If the Saints had listened to him and went after Laura she'd be alive. They killed her, they were the reason she was dead, the Saints. He felt his anger boil, his blood hot and angry.
Tobias arose, he stumbled around as he yelled hysterically, screaming for all the pain he was feeling. He cried now knowing that the Saints caused this on a regular basis. He cried for the woman he loved being killed. He cried for the life he could of had with Laura. He cried for the life he did have, because he wished he'd been a better husband.
He collapsed to his knees again in a panic. His lungs hurt because he had such a big lump in his throat. He was inhaling drastically and his throat burned. Tobias thumped his fist against the ground, roaring. He kept punching and punching, until he looked up to scream again. But he held it back. And the true feeling of panic washed over him.
His mouth shut tight. The hot flow of tears fading away. His feeble legs carrying him a few steps before he fell down beside her. He nodded his head.
No.
Her little wide legs had been punctured, blood poured from them like the tears had flown from his eyes. The blood was sickening, he wanted to feel her pain, just so that she wouldn't have to feel it. Her arms were soaked in more blood, they'd been shot too, it felt like he was being strangled and ripped apart at the same time.
They'd left her face. She was so beautiful, her smooth brown hair just reaching her pink rosy ears. Her face was pale and her sweet, stunning brown eyes shone like a lake. Her murky brown eyebrows were curved perfectly and her skin was soft and clear. Her lips was petite and a light glowing red, all her features were perfect in his eyes.
She tried speaking. She could only squeak. Tobias took her wrist gently in his hand. He shushed her with a soft voice, a finger raised over his lips. He stroked her cheek delicately, and told her how much he loved her. He reminded her of all the good memories, of their first date, and their marriage day. He said she was beautiful, he smiled and told her she was perfect, and he slowly, gently placed his lips on hers.
He watched as a tear slipped down his dying wife's eye, and just before she passed, her lips curved in, and she smiled a happy smile.
