8


Jack watched the door open.

They all watched the door open.

None of them had slept through the night.

Not a single word had been spoken.

The only noise was another mocking song in the background, haunting them, reminding them that something much worse was about to happen. Reminding them of the people in Steelport and Stilwater who were going to work, coming home from work, kissing their wives tenderly on the top of the head and patting their child on the back. They'd sit down for dinner and smile, and their kid would kiss them both good night.

And this song, just gave them that perfect image. The perfect wholesome American family.

Something they'd never had.

Something they'd never have.

And God did it make them all just sick.

Shaundi had tears in her eyes, and she closed her eyes. Her nose crinkled as she attempted to swallow her anger, her hatred, her disgust. She wanted to ram the man in the door into the wall, take his gun and shoot his eyes out. But she knew the guards would kill her before she even got the chance.

Johnny…now Jack…

Could she live after it? Could she live knowing that he died for her? Died for them? Of all people, them?

She cursed Fahla, she cursed the people of Stilwater, she cursed the people of Steelport.

She imagined herself a year from now.

If she managed to swallow down the nightmares that would surely flood her, if she could move on from the fact that every time she saw purple, she'd cry, if she could survive through her own self-destruction, she'd be on every talk show. She'd even dress respectably.

Johnny always said she'd look 'real nice' in a dress.

She'd wear her hair down, and sit down with Oprah or whoever she had to, to tell this story. The day they were kidnapped and that supposed 'evil' man who started in a world of bleak violence and brought both himself and them to the top was the same man who gave up his own life to let them escape.

He went through every form of torture, she'd say. And he'd go through it all over again if he had to. Because he did it for them.

Maybe he came across as maniacal, psychopathic, cold, demanding, but there was always a warmth in his laugh and smile. Something so genuine when he laughed. Whether it be in the face of the enemy he killed or around a dinner table at some pricey restaurant with them.

And what else, was he was always appreciative for everything.

She wondered continually what he came from, but she'd never asked.

Now she'd never know.

But she did know that they all helped him work so hard to get somewhere. They had been at the bottom together and they fought to get where they were. They were family. Maybe a sort of crazy family, but a family.

And he'd be damned if they all died for nothing.

Even if some literary big-wig did describe him as an anti-hero or whatever, to her, he did what he knew was right. He protected the people he needed to. He never killed an innocent. He'd save every kicked down puppy that came knocking at his door, like Carlos.

And he'd always have your back.

And he'd always help you get ready, get tough, when you were just joining the Saints. Shaundi watched him take everyone beneath his wing one time or another.

He was making you tough enough to kill the son of a bitch that was making dirty deals with the cops, selling women to the night, and flashing a grin to the media.

Making you ready to take the unfair criticism in your stride.

Making you ready to be the hero that Steelport and Stilwater so desperately needed and never appreciated.

"You are ready to give location." Fahla said it as though it were just fact.

"Yes. I'd like to talk in private, have as many guards come with you as you want, Mate. I don't want my…comrades…to see me die."

"It is an honorable death, they should witness it."

"In…" he spindled a lie in his head, "In American culture, it's dishonorable to die in front of your team mates."

He looked down to his gun on his hip and nodded his head back and forth, bouncing the idea back and forth, "I'm unable to understand that. But I will uphold. Come."

He looked to the five guards leaning casually against the wall, "Jayif, wag gif." He pointed to the others, "Ta-al."

Jayif turned away to look at the door and the other four beside him surrounded his back in a semi-circle.

Jack released a sigh and stood slowly, what surprised him was the hand that had gripped his fore-arm, aiding him to his feet. He looked up, expecting it to any one of his friends naturally, but instead found himself to be looking into the eyes of Fahla.

"Thank you." Jack whispered to him as he slowly got to his feet and Fahla put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him forward gently and holding a pistol to his back.

"Walk."

Jack took a few unsure steps, and finding his balance, he looked to his family.

The only one he ever really had.

Shaundi's eyes were glistening by this point, "You'll pay for this." She whispered to whatever Terrorist decided to listen.

Kinzie's lip quivered and Oleg watched her shivering form. Anger was boiling inside of him, but all he could think to do, is put one of his monstrous hands onto her shoulder.

She wouldn't cry, she refused.

Viola watched like an emotionless statue, and when Jack's eyes passed to hers, she mouthed the words, "We'll find you."

Pierce was biting his tongue, trying to find something he could stare at that would prevent him from losing himself.

In these moments, Oleg looked deep down inside himself. He looked through his morals.

Everything he ever believed in had been in those words of his trainers. Everything. But they never cared for him. They were doing what they were paid for. They were making him KGB material from the bottom up. Everything from beliefs to physique had been molded by them, and here he was, watching someone who genuinely cared about him, who picked him up in the battlefield a multitude of times and he was just letting them take him away.

What fucked up conceited shit did he believe in? Scientific reasoning proved that it was rational.

Was that all he ever thought about? Rational thinking?

"I'll see you in another place, Mates."

Those would be the words, Shaundi knew, that would haunt her just as much as Johnny's scream on the other end of a static intercom.


Jack stood maybe ten paces in front of this man, and he looked strangely pitiful. "I had to leave yesterday because my wife has just died."

Jack thought about apologizing, saying he felt bad for him, but remembered the time he told him about his son's death.

"Was it an honorable death?"

"Men raped her in our own home and cut her head from neck."

Jack was almost appalled, and he narrowed his eyes, looking to the ground.

"I'm sorry."

"I have not been able to see her in so long, because of this. Because of me having to get the location of my brother from you. If I had…If I had been able to get you to tell me sooner, this wouldn't have ever happened."

"This is my fault…" Jack whispered, "…I'm…"

"I know that you are. But it is my fault, unfortunately. I should not have let you sleep three days. I should have not let you see your friends."

"Will it be worth it? To get your brother back, but have lost your wife?"

"Of course. My brother is my family, it is expected I preserve his life. My wife-…she was a woman I loved perhaps, but I cannot ever replace my brother. I will wait no more for the location."

Jack looked down at the floor, something caught in his throat. How badly had his wife been treated by him? Did she ever even want to be his wife? Probably.

Though it was strange to think of, she probably loved him. Because just like Americans, you can be a total dick as a boss at work, and be the most loving husband a woman could ever ask for in the privacy of your home with the one person you loved.

He more than likely pampered and cherished her. He probably never thought of her as expendable until this moment. When he wanted to justify his actions.

But now he was the cause of her death, no matter the type of woman she was.

"Mate." He whispered, shaking his head, "I told you. I don't have it."

There was extended silence, he expected Fahla to react in anger. He expected a bullet hole in his head. He expected to be dead.

So he closed his eyes, awaiting his death.

Instead, the man released a sigh, his eyes twinkling in a lantern's light and touched the pistol wedged between his belt and pants.

"You told me you did."

It almost sounded like an innocent child, trying to receive a different answer from his scolding parent.

"I tried to tell you at first. I did. But, when you threatened my gang, said you'd kill them…"

"You're…gang? Gang? What is a gang?"

"Squadmates, team mates, comrades, whatever. Look, I don't know anything about your brother. I don't who you are. I don't why any of this happened but…I'm sorry about your wife. I'm sorry about your brother. Now…just…kill me."

"You are this willing to give in?"

"Yes. I get it. I have to die. This would come at some point, I always knew I'd die young, I knew. It's just what happens with this sorta lifestyle."

Fahla expected him to be talking about the military lifestyle, while in reality, Jack was referencing his lifetime of gangster-hood.

From the time he was old enough to understand his father's profession, he knew killing was in his blood. He'd never be able to change it.

He pulled the gun out, aiming it at him and his eyes looked into Jack's. His hand shook and he turned around, tapping himself on the forehead with the butt of the gun a couple of times in thought. "I…I can not believe this of what I am hearing. I thought…This is my fault. It's my fault…I am failure."

He took a breath, "And now, your death will have no meaning."

Gunshots could be heard in the hallways, and Jack's expression didn't change as Fahla turned around, his eyes widening.

"What is happened…?" He murmured, turning back to the door, peaking his head around the corner, he turned back into the room, "Too much smoke to see."

Jack looked to the floor.

"You-…You know what is happened?" Fahla nodded to himself knowing this had to be true, "What is happened? Tell me!"

"My death will have meaning. So kill me already if it's what has to happen."

Some more gunshots sounded from the hallway, this time they were closer and Fahla rushed back to the door, looking down the hallway again. His guards had gone to see what was going on, but he couldn't see anything.

Jack eyed the gun in Fahla's hand that was ready to shoot in his hand. Jack stepped forward, his eyes big, his feet hesitant, his hands quivering.

What happened to him?

He was acting like a pussy.

This was it. He could take life back by the reigns.

He stepped forward, a little more forcefully.

Again. Again. He was behind him, close enough to snatch the gun.

Fahla turned around in slow motion, eye to eye with him and he was shocked.

Fahla was moving his gun, about to bring it to Jack's head, about to kill him.


"What the hell is that?"Pierce yelled as he shot yet another guard, rushing towards him without a single weapon.

Viola's eyes drifted from the man before her to the drum of water sitting in the middle with an almost milk-like appearance. "Oh God…I don't want to know."

Running out of ammo, she turned the gun around and smacked him across the head, but not before he attempted the exact same attack. The smoking chamber hit her on the temple and she flinched away though it had already burned her.

She pulled back her arm and went in again for the attack, this time harder.

For a first since five minutes ago, there weren't anymore to fight. The room had bodies covering every inch, but none of those were alive or coming back to life even though Viola half-feared they might.

They left the room without much comment and Pierce watched in relief as Shaundi rounded the corner, "There aren't anymore that way."

"No more in the rooms down this way." Oleg replied, Kinzie jogging to keep up with Oleg's rather lengthy stride,

"Then we need to get going. Boss could still be alive."

"But…Shaundi.." Pierce trailed, and Shaundi looked back.

"But what?"

"If…" Pierce trailed off a little and released a small breath, "If he's not…"

"We'll have to deal with it. I'm not a fucking child, Pierce. I don't need the whole death speech."

She took lead, rounding a corner.

"Boss?" She called, into the haze.

Pierce stood there, slightly dumbfounded in his brain but a look of hurt across his face. He wasn't hurt by what Shaundi had said, of course not, she was scared and it was her way with dealing with it. He'd grown accustomed to that a long time ago. He was hurt by the thought of what she might do if Jack was dead.

If Jack was dead, he knew the pain would be…It'd be too much for his girl to handle.

She'd never be able to forgive herself, but it wasn't her fault. Throughout the entirety of their uprising, she'd been searching every room for him, calling out his name, even promising a few of them life if they'd tell her where their leader was.

They all did.

No one admitted anything.

Their life, Pierce guessed, wasn't nearly worth their leader's, in their sick minds at least.

Pierce followed up behind her after a second, he'd need to be there for her if Jack was dead.

And if Jack was in fact, miraculously, alive, he'd need to be there for him just as much.