Shaundi was surprised by how early she'd woken up that day. A few minutes after Pierce had left, she quickly dressed into her usual tank and low-rider jeans. Before long, she found herself fiddling with the gps on her phone. She was about to tuck her phone back into her pocket when her finger hovered over her contact list. She pursed her lips. She couldn't remember the last time she'd spent some girl time with the Boss. Although, in all fairness, the Boss wasn't exactly the feminine type, with her faded red skater cut hair, from jer bright blue tips, to her baggy combat trousers and biker boots. After the Boss' outburst, it was clear to her that she was stressed. Shaundi hated seeing her friend in such anguish. She wondered if organizing a meeting'd go down well with her – the Boss seemed to have her heart set on going after Dex and once the Boss had a goal in mind, there was very little that would stop her. Shaundi was wary of her leader, having witnessed her on such a short fuse the other night. She couldn't remember the Boss ever harming one of her own before. It was a troubling thought.

Regardless of her doubts, Shaundi called the Boss, and within the hour, the two ladies had met up at the nearest Image as Designed, situated in the industrialised Saints Row District. The Boss had grabbed some of Apollo's coffee and a baggie of fried dough balls on her way over. Shaundi grinned, taking a sip of her caramel latte – it felt like years since she'd ingested something as simple as coffee. The Boss and her sat on the stone steps outside of Image as Designed, their beverages steaming up the bitter-cold air. The Boss glanced over at Shaundi and nodded. "Aren't you cold at all, hon?"Shaundi shook her head.

"Not really. I've seen chillier." She replied. The Boss shrugged.

"So have I, but I still wear layers." She replied, tugging at her maroon hoodie. Shaundi smiled to herself as she processed the Boss' words.

"I guess you've traveled abit then. Anywhere good?" Shaundi asked, brushing a stray dreadlock off her face. The Boss arched an eyebrow at her, then shook her head.

"Nowhere relevant." The Boss then drained the rest of her cup, tossing it down the steps. "Enough of the chit-chat." The Boss affirmed, standing up. "Why'd you bring me out here?" She asked, hands on hips. Shaundi rose stifly to her feet.

"I just thought it'd be nice for us to have abit of girl time." She replied.

Judging from the Boss' gaping expression, Shaundi assumed she was a little bit shocked. The Boss pursed her lips, tilted her head then asked. "Seriously?"

"Hey, I know we've got other things to be focusing on, but c'mon! Is an hour of hair styling really gunna impact all that much?" Shaundi replied.

"Maybe, if I've gotta shoot off somewhere, mid-trim." The Boss growled, arms folded, as she shifted uncomfortably on the spot. Shaundi tilted her head and cooed.

"Aw, c'mon. It'd be nice, soothing." Shaundi grinned to herself, then leaned in close and whispered. "If we're really lucky, maybe we'll get that cute fireman guy to treat us." The Boss scoffed.

"Y'know, I already told you how I soothe myself." The Boss replied. She then shook her head. She sighed."Fuckit. As long as we make it quick." She conceded. Shaundi beamed, spun on her heels and marched up the steps, a slight spring in her step. Inside, she felt elated – surely, not many people would go to have their hair done with their boss.

Deep down, the Boss was kind've curious. The last time she'd been to Image as Designed, she and Gat were on the run from police, mere hours after her busting out of jail, and busting him out of his death sentence. And the main reason she'd gone there in the first place, was to try and disguise herself as much as possible. That, and for those five years of being in a coma, her dreads had become long and unruly. So she'd gone with the more convenient tribal bob – quick enough to comb, and ambiguous enough that she could still pass as a boy. It was kind've refreshing, having her hair treated purely for leisure this time. Even though a million things were going through her head, she did enjoy the relaxing trickle of Chinese flute music, and the luxurious touch of the hairdressers as they massaged her scalp, pumping her hair with numerous hair-care products that smelled divine. The Boss was able to close her lids and lose herself in the sensations for a brief few seconds. Shaundi lay in the chair next to hers. "Mmmm, the lads sure know their stuff here." She said.

"Hmmm?" The Boss asked, barely lifting a lid. Shaundi tilted her hair towards the Boss.

"So, what color were you thinking of having?" Shaundi asked. "I might go for some streaks." The Boss bolted upright, splashing the lady behind her.

"Color? I thought we were just having a wash, cut, an' blow?" The Boss replied. Shaundi shrugged.

"Up to you. Don't worry, it's on me, Boss." She grinned. The Boss had to restrain herself from laughing. She had a vast fortune, and yet one of her crew was worried about her being out of pocket? It seemed ridiculous, yet at the same time... Relieving. The Boss assumed that's just how friends were with each other. It was comforting.

The Boss shook her head. "Seriously, why d'you care so much?" She asked.

"How d'you mean?" Shaundi asked, perplexed. The Boss shrugged, refusing to lay back down, despite the hairdresser politely urging her to.

"Y'know, why bother bringing me out to do shit like this? You know it ain't my kind've scene." The Boss replied, snatching the towel that one of the hairdressers offered her, and began drying her soapy hair. Shaundi pursed her lips. "I dunno, I just thought you could do with a treat, y'know. I mean, c'mon. You have to admit that this feels good, right?" Shaundi replied, her lips quirked upwards in a half-smile, as she tipped her head back, the hairdresser began to rinse her hair out. The Boss opened her mouth, trying to think up some witty quip. Yet, shockingly, the words that flowed from her lips next, were true to heart "Yeah. It does" She said, smiling sincerely as a hairdresser handed her a complimentary glass of water. The kind've smile that brightened rooms.

Truth was, Shaundi felt as if she needed to confide in someone. Perhaps the occasionally cold-blooded leader of the Saints wasn't an ideal source of patience nor understanding, yet sad as it was, Shaundi knew she had few people she could turn to. Hesitant, she asked. "Boss... Have you ever thought about, y'know.. Settling down?" The Boss nearly choked on her drink.

"I'm flattered, but... sorry, hon.." She croaked. Shaundi grinned, and shook her head.

"No, I mean... With anyone. Just settling down and having a normal life?" She asked. The Boss paused, considering the words carefully. She shook her head.

"Nah. That'd be boring." She replied. Shaundi smiled softly.

"Yeah... You're probably right." She added wistfully. Her tone sparked a spittle of worry in the Boss.

"Why?" She asked.

"Why what?" Shaundi replied.

"Why would you wanna do that?" The Boss asked, her eyes firm as she studied Shaundi for weakness.

"I don't." Shaundi shrugged. "I just wondered, y'know. If you met the right person." She replied. The Boss nodded and seemed to relax in her chair.

Shaundi was quickly swept away to have her hair pampered, leaving the Boss to herself. However, Shaundi's words stuck, echoing in the Boss' mind; if you met the right person. It was the kind've bullshit the Boss expected to hear in a fairytale – 'the One', as it was commonly referred to. The Boss wriggled uncomfortably in her seat – was there such thing as 'the One' for someone like her? Would she even want something like that? Would she really be suited to the hampy pampy, apple-pie-eating, sparkler-waving, BBQ-having, average American lifestyle? Instantly, she dismissed it, shaking it off. She knew herself too well. How she relished in the kick of her shotgun, the splatter of blood, even the tiniest thrill of joyriding. The two didn't exactly mesh.

The styling went by in a haze, the Boss still pondering over Shaundi's words. The sad truth being that the Boss could've have had that life, if things had been different. Whilst Shaundi was discussing the pros and cons of having dreads with one of the stylists, the Boss found herself snapped to attention by the buzz of her phone. Pierce. She sat up instantly, shoving the comb-wielding stylist to the side. "Sup, Pierce." She answered.

"Today is your lucky day," he began. "I just got a tip off that Dex was last transferred to Mehico. Seems odd that our little go-getter would suddenly jump at the chance for a demotion." He added. The Boss snorted.

"Anything to save his own skin, I bet." She replied, already on her feet and heading for the exit, thrusting a bundle of bills at the receptionist, before flashing Shaundi a sheepish smile. "I didn't know they even had Ultor outside of America." She added, wistfully, stepping out into the gusty streets.

"Shit, where you been, girl?" Pierce scoffed. "Ultor was real big in the Far East before it came here. That's where most of their shit is produced, after all."

"Whatever. Can we get some details on Dex? I wanna know exactly where the fucker is," She asked. And exactly what that fucker's up to, she thought. Pierce hesitated.

"I can't get anything solid, but I do know that there's another Ultor branch down by the Gulf. I'm guessing that's where he'll be heading."

"Wonderful. Great work, Pierce." She grinned, flipping her phone shut. Meanwhile, at Apollo's coffe shop, in the University District, Pierce returned to his sister's tabled, sitting across from her, beaming with pride.

The Boss jacked the nearest car, speeding back to the Saints hideout, her blood pulsing with excitement. They had a lead on that traitorous jackass! Finally! It was the first trickle of luck they'd had in days, and she was determined to take advantage of it whilst it lasted. They would have to move quickly in order to catch up with Dex, although she was certain they could pull it off. She'd need to make preparations, arrange for stand-ins. As she drove, she spoke animatedly with Pierce over the phone, discussing travel plans, and namely, who got to go. She was certain that Pierce could handle running the regular gang operations, keeping the money rolling in, and organizing the many sordid activities that the Saints regularly engaged in – from drug trafficking, to insurance fraud, to hitmen and causing general mayhem. The Boss' grin wavered briefly. As much as she trusted Pierce, she felt a small flicker of guilt – technically she should be leaving these duties to her second in command, Gat – even if he lacked leadership skills. Aside from the Boss, he was likely the most revered member of the Saints, inspiring them, and running the group fairly well, if abit chaotic... It made sense to leave him in charge. Yet, she could not shake the unnerving feeling that it would be a disservice to leave him behind. After all, she knew Gat – there was no doubt that he would want to make Dex suffer, and the Boss felt as if it'd be a crime to deny him the right. After what had happened to Aisha, she felt as if she owed him that. No doubt she would feel much more comfortable with her best friend by her side, anyway.

Having instructed her lieutenants to spread the word, the Boss found herself scanning through the contacts on her phone. Her heart lurched when one of them stood out. Carlos. Tears blurred in her pale blue eyes, at the memory of the naïve young man that had completely disarmed her with his gentleness. The one whom had been her first. Although she'd never admit it, nor share it with anyone, no matter how much they speculated, she knew in her heart that she could not allow herself to grow attached to someone, the way she had with Carlos. She could not bare the thought of going through that kind of loss again. Her chest began to ache, and her mind began to flood with memories, as she sat in the hijacked car in the parking lot outside the Saints hideout.

She recalled every detail, branded into her brain. She knew that she was being foolish, allowing herself to indulge her sexuality – among other things. Maybe he knew this, too. But that hadn't stopped them. The two had met in private one evening, her blood boiling. She'd just gotten back from Wardhill airport, having dropped Pierce off, and she was pissed. Aisha was dead, Gat was laid out in hospital, Shaundi had forgotten about the Samedi's pot farm, and she'd let the Akuji's slip through her grasp. She was frustrated as fuck, and she'd be damned if her only other lieutenant hadn't found anything new on the Brotherhood.

She slipped under the half-closed shutters to the garage, Semi Broken. She scoped the place out, as Carlos appeared from the makeshift office, flicking through a stack of dollar bills that he'd liberated from the lockbox. He handed it to her and whispered in her ear, "Thanks for buying me dinner." She grinned.

"It was only Freckle Bitches." She corrected. He seemed to... blush. This confused the Boss at first. He offered her a beer from a neglected cooler, then sat on the bench at the back of the workshop. Hesitantly, the Boss marched over and sat beside him, nodding as she ripped off the bottle cap with her teeth. In the darkness, she found solitude in his arms. Comfort; something she'd rarely experienced. It took her back to when she'd first moved to America, a time where she'd first learned what it meant to share affection. What it meant to be part of a family. In some ways, the Saints were much like a family to her. As the two began to open up to one another, ever so tenderly prying into one another's past, their emotions heightened from the booze, and it wasn't long before the two embraced one another, on the back of one of the classic motorbikes. They tossed away any prior inhibitions, sharing a night of wild passion that she knew she would not forget.

That's what pained her the most. Knowing that she could not forget what they'd done, and what had resulted from it, soon after. How he'd been captured by that Brotherhood bitch, Jessica. She could not wipe the vision of him, face shredded beyond recognition, limbs battered from their sockets, the odd stump of bone visible as it tore through his skin. But more than that – so much blood. Everywhere. A long red smear, splattered along the road, smudged along the tires, bumper, and the chains of the truck. His lips, the same lips that had set her flesh alight with lust, barely attached to his face, swallon, and teeth full of blood and grit. Yet it was hard to mistake the words that he tried to blurt out, but it was clear that he didn't have much strength left, between his painful whimpers. Each one, wrenching at her heart. It was clear what he wanted.

She shook her head, tears beading in her eyes. She tried to lift him, carry him, drag him. She would get him fixed up. She would take him to the hospital. But even trying to lift him caused him to howl in agony. She let out a pitiful sob, setting him back down. She felt trapped, again. She knew he didn't have much time left, his strength waning, his breath becoming even more shallow. His body occasionally twitched, as she knelt before him. Their eyes locked, as he feebly tried to clasp her hand. It felt cold, as he lie there, shivering, unnaturally pale, and his eyes bloodshot. He heaved his chest, then managed to utter a barely audible whisper; "Kill. Me." He'd warbled. The Boss could feel a lump forming in her throat. She couldn't let him suffer. Couldn't bare to end his life, either. Yet she had to. It was what he wanted. It went against every fibre in her being, to kill one of her own. Her hand seemingly moved of its' own accord, she clenched her eyes shut. She hefted her gun, aligning it with his mangled face. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back, as a small attempt at a smile, stretched his bloodied mouth. She squeezed the trigger, and it was all over. Her world seemed to stop, unable to register the gunshot. Her senses became deadened, his grip suddenly limp.

It seemed that murder was the only thing she knew how to do, anymore.

She'd gone very still in the car. She could hear distant thunder roll overhead, snapping her out of her daydream. She hadn't realized that she'd been clutching her phone to her chest so tightly, clinging to it like a lifeline. No one could know. She swallowed hard, eyes fighting back tears as she scanned the parking lot with steely eyes. She could spy a few purple clad stragglers, swaggering over to the hideout's entrance. In some ways, she envied her recruits. An unwelcome tear trickled down her cheek. She stared at the name for several minutes, closed her eyes, then pressed Delete Contact. She suddenly felt emotionally drained, wanting to bury her face into the soft embrace of the air bag.

There came a gentle knock on the window, and the Boss hastily snapped her head up. Without turning her head, she gave a curt nod of greeting to Pierce. She swung open the door, nearly banging his kneecaps. "Woah, hey." He exclaimed. "You're eager, huh." The Boss snorted.

"No time like the present." she croaked. Pierce gave her a questioning look.

"Ain't you gunna ask how I got a hold of this?" He asked as the two cut across the parking lot. The Boss briefly halted, raising an eyebrow at Pierce.

"I dunno, imps? Gawd himself could've descended from the heavens to inform you personally, and I still wouldn't give a shit." She snapped. Pierce wrinkled his nose.

"Who pissed in your punch bowl?" He retorted. The Boss glared, shoving him aside as she entered the hideout, determinedly ignoring him.

"What matters is that we don't let him slip by us again." She paused, glancing at him. "We're going to need every advantage we can get." Pierce nodded.

"I've got someone on the inside. She'll update us if anything changes." He said. Now it was the Boss' turn to be puzzled.

"Wait, you had someone scoping him out already, and you didn't think to bring that up?" She asked. Pierce narrowed his eyes.

"Look, it ain't all about you. Shit, I didn't even know she was working with him until now." He replied. The Boss studied his face, for the slightest speck of insincerity. She was mildly curious about who this mysterious She, was. Perhaps Pierce had snagged himself a girlfriend. Or more to the point, perhaps he was trying to imitate Shaundi. Whatever the case, the Boss didn't see much use in pressing him further. Instead, she conceded; "Fair enough. But we may need reinforcements if things go pear-shaped."

"Heh." Said a voice as they rounded the corner to the main balcony. The Boss' eyes widened upon recognition. "They often do." Gat added. The Boss recovered her mild shock, before registering Gat's sudden change in attire.

His usual pin-striped dress pants had been swapped out for a pair of baggy jeans, and his purple silk shirt traded in for a blood-stained tank top. He reeked of beer and cigarettes. His bloodshot eyes also indicated that he might've been abit stoned too. The Boss' breathe hitched, as an image of Carlos' bloodshot eyes flashed through her mind. Pierce held up his hands in a warding gesture. "Woah, Gat; you look like shit."

"Nah, man. You do. I look like them Simpsons fuckers." Gat replied, in a dreary detached voice. He then began to chuckle to himself, his face beaming with amusement. Pierce and the Boss exchanged concerned looks. "I'm worried about him." Pierce squeaked.

"Me too." The Boss replied stiffly. She then turned to Pierce. "I'll get him home. You can deal with this lot." She ordered, vaguely gesturing towards the odd clusters of gang members, then spun on her heels, slipping her arm under Gat's, before Pierce could protest. He stumbled as she tried to peel him away from the wall, his head swimming with dizziness.

The Boss hauled him out of the elevator and across the parking lot, his head nuzzling against her neck, sending cold tingles rocketing up and down her spine. She tightened her grip on his shirt – his bulky muscular mass was a lot heavier than it looked. As she neared Gat's beat-up Hammerhead, she swore she could feel warm droplets on her shoulder. Her body stiffened. "Gat?" She asked, as she helped shove him into the car. He shifted, uncomfortably aware of his own weakness. He knew he must've looked terrible. No doubt the Saints would suspect that he was a little more troubled than he ought to be. The truth was, he didn't know how else to deal with his loss – other than being a good little soldier, and murdering whoever was in his path. Which he was more than happy to do. But in his down time... That's when the memories crept back. And those were the moments that he'd snap, go on a bloody rampage. At times, he understood why the Boss would do the same, out of pent up anger.

Gat placed a hand to his forehead and took a long steadying breath. He blinked, then glanced over at the Boss, her face swirling from the affects of the Loa Dust. He never thought he'd become a junkie, but he supposed it came with the territory, being a blood-crazed psychopath. Her face expression seemed stern, yet even in his inebriated state he could not shake the look of compassion that edged those endearing blue eyes. Even when they first met, and she had fooled many of the Saints into thinking she was a guy, some part of him could tell, just from those eyes, that she was not just any girl. That look alone was enough to unhinge him. With tears brewing in the back of his eyes, that he struggled to hold back, he glanced up at the rear view mirror, unwilling to look her in the eye, for fear of giving too much away. "Thanks, Boss." He replied, clearing his throat, as he went to grip the steering wheel. Her eyes widened, and she quickly smacked his hands away. "Like hell, I'm letting you drive." She said, slipping into the driver's seat before he could argue. He nearly laughed at her attempt at chivalry. "Look, Boss. I'm a fully grown man." He began.

"Right," she snorted. "So grown up, you show up to an important meeting fucking stoned." She snapped, narrowing her eyes at him. Her eyes softened. She extended an arm towards him, patting his shoulder. He glanced at her, and she offered a smile. "Gat, please. I know you don't like to talk about...feelings." She said; the word 'feelings' tasted bitter in her mouth. Even he knew she sounded unnerved, clearly out of her depth. Yet, she pressed on. "You wouldn't be the only one." She replied, with a hint of amusement. He smiled back.

"That's it? That's your little pep talk?" He replied, equally amused. She faltered, blinked, then continued.

"Pretty much. Fine, if you don't want my help. Whatever. Just letting you know that it's there if you need it." She said, shrugging then keyed the ignition. Gat scowled. I don't need help from anyone, he thought, yet as much as he hated to admit it, the offer of comfort made his chest flood with warmth.

As the Boss pulled out of the parking lot, Gat noticed a familiar figure, standing quite casually in the alleyway shadows, smoking a cigarette with a top that read Viva La Mexico. He knew he recognized it, and could just about remember the name of the person. Rihanna. He arched an eyebrow, and began to wonder again how that bitch had known him in the first place. He tossed his head about in confusion, his lack of sleep finally beginning to catch up to him. In his mind's eyes, he saw Rihanna and the Boss' features blur together in an unnatural, unruly manner, thanks to the Loa Dust. As unnerving as the experience was, he was glad for the respite from the bittersweet memories of his dead girlfriend.

By the time Shaundi reached the base, Pierce and the others were beginning to disperse. Pierce spun around upon her entry, visibly having to suppress an eye roll. "At last, Lady Dope returns." He said, folding his arms.

"Hey, c'mon man. I was busy." She said, flicking her newly trimmed dreads. "So, what's new?" She asked. Pierce let out a groan. She didn't even know what the meeting was about? He sighed. "We, or rather, I have got a lead on Dex. The Boss and I sussed out some arrangements. So far, she and Gat and a small group of our boys are gunna head south to scope things out, find that bitch, and kill 'im." He paused. "At least, that's the rough idea. Until then, you and me are gunna be running things here." He explained. Shaundi beamed.

"Well, that'd be a great time for us to do some bonding. Go shopping, pick out some tea cozies..." She replied, jokingly. Pierce couldn't hide his smile.

"Shut up." He snapped, then stalked off.

It was clear that the Saints were back in business.