Hey, here's lucky chapter 10 to start off the second part! Thanks to all who are viewing and hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Saint's Row and it's related material are the property of Volition. Original stories and concepts are my intellectual property.

"Drive, drive, drive!"

I yanked the steering wheel to the left, drifting around a corner. Darcy got flung to the side and into me. Our gunners, Flynn and Cassandra were shooting at the police close behind.

"If we get caught, I'm blaming Flynn!" Cassandra yelled. The black bandanas around our mouths muffled our voices.

"We would've made a clean break if Darcy didn't take fucking forever!"

"What? I wasn't leaving until we got every last morsel out of those stupid society hags!"

I swung the car to the right, partially to get out of the left hand lane but more so to shut them up. "Can you stop acting like children and start acting like lieutenants?

Darcy pouted, "There's a shortcut up ahead."

"I know there is," I muttered through gritted teeth and drifted into the alley. The police zoomed past us. The car came to a stop in front of a wire fence. A rusty fire escape loomed over us.

Flynn slammed his hand on the car roof in delight, while Cassandra smiled and slunk back into her seat. "Great job, boss."

"Kissass," Flynn jumped out of the sun roof and onto the ground.

We all got out and opened the trunk. Our duffel bag was stuffed with goodies: money, jewels, purses, wallets, credit cards, anything you could get holding up a charity function. We'd even gotten a weird painting a client had asked for, a mess of squiggles and lines on a puke-green background.

Flynn picked it up and examined it, "I never understood art." Yeah

"Because you're too stupid," Cassandra commented. She hefted the bag and started climbing the escape, sliding up easily as a shadow. Darcy and I bounded up together and slipped up quickly. Flynn sighed and threw us the painted before climbing up, jumping rail by rail until we got to the roof.

Flynn looked like an art hipster, though. He had a scruffy poet's beard and equally scruffy brown hair under his black hood and bandana. The only thing showing were his green eyes behind silver wire glasses.

We started sprinting toward home. Our warehouse was only a few hops over walls, skips along the rooftops, and many jumps across gaps away. We didn't simply run, we flowed over ledges and air vents or whatever was in our path,like the Runners we were. The bright lights of Steelport's buildings couldn't reach far enough to illuminate us.

"There it is," Darcy panted. Her brown hair had stuck to her face, a strand covering her glasses.

We leaped off the neighboring building and onto the roof of our abandoned apartment building. It was four buildings joined together, with a square courtyard in the middle, covered by tarp to camouflage it.

Cassandra pulled off her scarf. She was a thin, wiry, Asian with a sharp face and sharper mind. She used to be a boxer before she went to med school. We all were in school, went to the same classes even. This whole gang had started over a group of amateur thieves going after the same mark,

We slipped under the tarp and swung down ropes we'd hung across the gap. We reached the bottom and started walking toward my office on the second floor. Our soldiers were training in the courtyard on each other, but they had the sense to stop when we passed by. It was dead quiet, even with a few hundred of them, they had been trained well. Runners were meant to be spies, thieves, and assassins for hire. Making too much noise is unnecessary and sets us apart from the rest of the gangs of Steelport.

"So what are we going to do for the anniversary?" Darcy chirped

"Anniversary? What the hell do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, in a few days, we'll have started this gang a year ago."

"So?"

"So," Flynn jumped in, "we need to do something for it."

"Let's get a cake from Walmart and call it that." I wasn't in a big mood for celebration, honestly there's nothing more I wanted to do then drink the memories of Murderbrawl away.

"No!" Darcy grabbed my arm, "We need to get out boss a present for making the Runners what we are today!"

"Try to do better on missions and call that my present."

"No, we mean like an actual present, something you buy."

"A dildo."

They all laughed. " But we should get something hard, substantial," Cassandra asked.

"My dick?" Flynn asked.

She glared at him.

"Well you kind of walked into it," Darcy commented.

"I mean a statue, a testament to your accomplishment."

"A statue? What am I Napoleon or something?"

"Close enough," Flynn shrugged as we got to the door.

"Whatever, just give me updates on our operations."

"Our spies are still firmly posted in the three gangs of the Syndicate." Darcy said.

"Excellent, Morningstar?"

"Business as usual. He's agitated about… something. We don't know yet but we're staying posted."

I looked to Flynn, "Deckers?"

"Matt's still alive, since that's what you really want to know," he said with a shrug.

I sighed. Matt had still kept going with his gang after I left. It got him away from Dad, thank Jesus, but he didn't need to do stuff like that.

"There is still a lot unknown about the Luchadores," Cassandra stated, "we will need time to look deeper, to find out whose leading them."

"Angel," I sighed. We'd kept our heads down while we were trying to get this gang off the ground. It was a horrible mistake, we now had to play catch-up for information everyone already knew.

"We'll find him," Darcy sighed and put her hand on my shoulder.

I moved it away, but still grinned a bit, "Thanks."

My phone started ringing. "Yeah?" I picked up

Philippe Loren's voice came over the other end, "I need you at the tower. Get here before anyone else."

"Okay," I said tentatively before he hung up.

I sighed, "I need to go see Loren."

"Why?" They all asked.

"I guess it's about that thing Darcy said he was worried about. It's probably nothing."

They understood they couldn't come, and made no objection when I left. The agents in the courtyard respectfully made way when they saw me. The center of the yard was empty, maybe a statue would look good there. I started climbing the ropes easily as a spider. The fight Sway and I had did me some good.

Loren's tower would be a short trip from here. I started sprinting and jumping from rooftop to rooftop, being unburdened made me fly. The sun would soon be rising so I had to move quickly.

A black limo was the only car in the street below, only Phillipe would want to get to work this early. A sudden idea made me grin. I leaped off the side of the building and rolled onto the limo. The sunroof slid open and Viola stuck her head out. She scoffed,"Yes sir, it's her."

"Hey," I grinned.

"Just get in here," she commanded and got back inside.

I slid inside the car. Philippe was sitting in back seat with the girls at his side. I sat in the seat opposite them and grinned.

"You work fast," Philippe noted.

"Yeah, that's why I'm called a Runner."

"And, because I pay you more than the rest of the Syndatice combined."

I shrugged, "Well Killbane doesn't believe in delicacy and Matt has his computers." I like to call me and Matt The Blackmail Twins. He got his through a computer, I got mine from showing up and busting a few heads.

He chuckled a little at that, "Those two need to learn that sometimes you need a deadly and precise aim. Killbane can use his thugs all he wants but in the end it's all for naught if you don't get information. And Matt can get everything through a computer, but there's no hard evidence."

"I let them do their craft," I shrugged, "it makes me the best choice."

The car stopped and the girls got out. Philippe exited and started walking to the building. I stepped out almost all the way before the car door slammed into my leg. Kiki smirked at me and closed it all the way. I grunted and caught up with Phillipe. "So what's this thing you've been worrying about?"

He kept walking briskly until we got inside and in the elevator. "There's a gang that's been causing trouble, after me doing them the kindness of bailing them out."

The doors opened and we stepped inside his office. This room was ten times the size of mine, but free of clutter that decorated mine. "Jeez, that sucks. Who are they?"

"A backwater gang called The Third Street Saints. They got lucky and now think they can take us on."

"They thought wrong," I stated. I liked Phillipe, not like a friend but as a tolerable person to work for. He paid handsomely for my services, kept it professional, and didn't ask too many questions. But still, he would stab in the back for his gain, so no big loss when he died.

He grinned a bit, "Now get out of here, I don't want the others to know you're mine and mine alone."

"Thank you," I replied before getting back in the elevator. Twitches ran up and down my spine. Why did everything think I belong to them? I wasn't property, or a slave. I was above my shame, my guilt, and my circumstance. I'll take those fucking Saints down and take what's mine.

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