'Why did you request five units just to bust a hideout?' Troy asked.
Vogel closed a button of his thousand dollar suit elegantly.
'Two go for the hideout, the others are to evict the people from their houses. Maybe they won't go easily, but I assume our team is well equipped to deal with this situation. Starting a few fires here and there should be enough to scare them away. '
Troy opened his mouth in shock, unable to answer as he couldn't believe this order wasn't a joke.
Max was the first one to rise from his seat in indignation. He had the impression he was in playing a role in a medieval movie, receiving orders to burn down some village due to taxes been unpaid.
'Civilians Mr Vogel?!'
'You call them civilians. I call them prostitutes, unemployed and petty thieves. A part of the population that needs to disappear if the good one is to be safe.' He leant on the table with both hands to get his point across. 'This city needs to be cleaned.
'There are also families living there. The nation will stare at us as barbarians!' Troy smacked his hand against the table, spit coming out of his mouth so much he couldn't get a hold of himself.
'Not really.' Vogel replied calmly having a sip of his coffee. 'After the burning of Shivington it won't be hard convincing everyone that the Saints are at the origin of the attack. All we did was to try to stop them. Don't worry for your reputation gentlemen. The press is already aware of what they have to do. And I won't forget to give your career a little boost so your efforts won't be for nothing.'
At this point he put his coffee down and looked at both men.
'If after all my solid arguments, you are still unable to cooperate, well, I can always find a new job for you. Guarding the docks of the city's penitentiary would be appealing for you both? At least you could sit and discuss your views of nobility during lunch time.'
For Troy's surprise Max replied with what seemed to be a concealing tone:
'At least there will be one less street gang out there killing our men. Don't worry about Troy, Mr. Vogel, I will talk him into sense.'
'Thank you, Max. Can I call you Max? I always thought you were a reasonable man. You getting laid on duty for once didn't turn out to be so bad, huh?' He patted him on the shoulder. 'Good for you. She is hot. For a Hispanic, of course.'
No sooner than Vogel's Status Quo disappeared at the corner of the street, Max headed for the gun's supply room, followed by Troy. He was angry he didn't see Daniel's move coming. It had nothing to do with him being concerned over the city's security. It was all about his own campaign. He made the Saints work along with the police, helping then to get rid of the bigger threat and do all the dirty job. Now he was going to massacre the whole gang and walk away looking like a hero and model citizen. Max was always against crooks and police getting mixed to do business, it was wrong by principle . But this was way too much. And by the time he was forced to get to know them better he was actually surprised to find human decency and honor values more often between those gangsters than he did on the PD. He could never agree with the gang's violent ways, drug trafficking and stealing. But much to his dislike, he had to admit this particular gang had actually interest in the poor and did show a hint of idealism in their conviction, not to mention the true loyalty they had for one another. They were also capitalists, but less than the kind that were crowding the city's administration, offices and educational institutions that was sure.
He knew that, for instance, on the neighborhoods under the Saint's control, no people or kids were found living on the streets. A part of their profit would go also to ensure their lives.
No one over the age to be working was left with nothing. On top of that they had free pass at the hospital and a much lower or even free rent depending on their situation.
It was forbidden to evict families going through financial difficulties. Not to mention the Saint's ambulance, who provided surprisingly quicker and more decent interventions compared to Stillwater's public medical system. It also took care of the illegal immigrants, those who could not even go to a public hospital by fear of been throw at the back of an immigration's truck and back into the poverty in a most unkind way.
He shook his head, sensing his thoughts were going a dangerous road.
What the hell? Was he becoming like them? Where did those crazy ideas like supporting a street gang come from?
Maybe from his ability to obsessively analyze his condition and context, or maybe from an intimate relationship with the woman behind it all...
The Boss was a ruthless killer, that was hard to contest. But it was because of her will that such organization took place. It was wrong, but funny enough, much fairer than the lifestyle Ultor preached in their fancy ads.
And, there was more... Maybe it was because, even after all this time, he still had the stupid romantic way of viewing the world. He had to warn her. He could never forgive himself if the trust he earned was used to get her eliminated. If the Saints knew in advance about the attack, they would be able to protect their neighborhood too, and the people on it.
'What are you doing?' Troy asked as Max swiped his access card and opened the locker, taking the most bulky rifle he found.
'I'm going to the Hideout to warn the Saints, and if you have the slight notion of human decency, then you are coming with me.' He groaned.
Troy stood there for a moment. A lot of flashbacks from the time he was working undercover with the saints were flooding his mind. A sudden resolution illuminated his features.
'Let's steal a car at the parking in the mall. We can't use our own.'
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The masako team sneaked their way into the hideout silently, trying to use the surprise effect to their advantage as much as possible. The killed their way with that impressive efficiency such professionals have, going towards the inside of the mission only got noticed as they reached the main room, and the Saints keeping guard spotted the orange uniforms surrounding them.
The quantity of consistent noise from their conflict immediately drove everyone's attention to the fact that something big was taking place, and created a moment of total havoc at the crib.
It was amusing, in a way, to find people coming out of their rooms interrupting everything that they were doing, their outfit or expression hinting what this occupation was. More than one gang member had a part of their outfit missing, or were even in underwear. The only thing they didn't forget though was their gun.
Gat for instance was in the shower and didn't have the time to put on a shirt, all he had was his slacks, barefoot. He hurried outside carrying his Kurkov, only to bump into The Boss still snacking on the burger she was having, while charging a Kobra.
'What the fuck is going on here?' Pierce said behind them. 'Elite troops?! What did we do to piss those guys off?'
It was matter of time before an improvised organization took place, Saints could be seen on the phone calling for back up, splitting to cover the entrances and the underground, that the masako didn't forget. The Boss and the Lieutenants were screaming contraditory orders and people were running for the heavy gear stash.
The gun fire was so loud that it made any communication difficult, so everyone did what they could do and hopped for the best.
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'So you guys had a thing huh?' Troy couldn't keep his curiosity anymore.
'Yup. Keep it to yourself though. We're not together anymore.' Max replied.
'How come?'
'I am not big in relationship advice, but I keep telling myself that when your girlfriend buries someone alive, that's when you draw the line.'
Troy chuckled, Max always kept his sense of humor, even during the hard times.
'That is it!' They parked the car a few blocks away of the spot of the attack.
'Let's split for now. Good luck.'
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Carlos cleaned the way up the stairs of the main room, to find The Boss occupied in a 'friendly' conversation with a wounded masako, who was lying on the floor on a pool of blood.
She just shot his leg again, expecting him to spill what he knew, this guy was obviously small fry, but maybe he knew who ordered this.
'I don't know!'
'You don't know… You don't know…?' She hissed, losing patience and kicking helmet off, grabbing him by the hair and smacking her already full of blood knuckles against his face one again. 'Then why do I keep getting this feeling that you do?'
He was either too scared to talk, or really knew nothing, because he couldn't do more than gasp and spit more blood on the floor, his gaze starting to be distant.
'Fantastic.' She commented, waving her hand in frustration, and shooting him anywhere where he didn't have a hole already. 'Come on asshole, we ain't got all day.'
'Just heard something about Ultor…'
The man's eye went completely dead and his head sunk.
'So?' Carlos asked, looking at the masako lying on the floor.
'Nada.' She touched a vein on his neck with her fingers. 'Look. I killed the fucker before he could tell us more.'
'I called Tobias, he is outside with the Helicopter, he said there is a million of them out there and that we need to do something to stop them from entering. This is fucked up Boss.'
'Go and get Gat and Pierce, let's see what we can do.'
Carlos promptly got ready to make his way down again and reach for Gat who was positioned strategically at the bar.
After a while, the three opened the door of the abandoned church.
The whole district was under assault, masako going inside civilian homes, apartments and cars into flames, sirens and terror everywhere.
'A brighter future and a better life.' She muttered ironically the motto from Ultor company, looking at the chaotic scene.
Just then a familiar silhouette was hastily coming out of from the blinding smoke, spotting them.
'What are you doing here?' The Boss ran to him, posing her hands on his chest.
'I came to warn you.' Max said, leaning on his knees to breath and wiping sweat from his brow. 'I'm always late I guess.'
There was a detonation not far from them and Max pulled himself inside with her for protection.
He felt the need to explain.
'Dane Vogel went to the PD told us what would happen just now, I had nothing to do with it, I swear. They forced everybody to do this. He said, pointing behind himself.'
The Boss chuckled sadly.
'Yeah. But you are over here with us and they are over there. Listen Max, be careful! If he told you it's because he knew it was too late and that you could come. I would bet my head he's waiting for an opportunity to pop you too.'
Damn. He didn't see it like this, a trap inside a trap. Like many times before that, Max failed to see the situation as whole, and only realized what he was into when it was too late. Obviously honest cops were a stone in this guy's shoe and he wouldn't mind getting rid of two with one rock.
They couldn't resume their conversation though, because more soldiers found their way up and kept the pair busy for a while.
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Johnny and Carlos were quick to arrange an improvised barricade with everything that could provide solid protection from the bullets that they could get their hands into.
Their idea was to create a safe spot to use a gating gun.
It was an almost suicidal job though, that required not only cold blood, but synchronization. They moved in turn, switching from shooting to moving things around as more special forces uniforms arrived from every street that lead to the hideout.
One masako in particular came dangerously close enough to take a clear shot at Gat, but as he approached an explosion took most of his upper body off.
The miracle savior came from a corner carrying a rocket launcher, but due to all the smoke it was hard to see his features.
A familiar mustache was visible though. And the guy was... Well, against all odds, given the context of chaos, he was smoking with his unarmed hand.
Gat stood still, tensing his neck, one couldn't read his expression or know what was going to follow.
In a blink of an eye he swung his arm and the next second Troy was bleeding on the floor, cigarette all fucked up still hanging from his mouth, glued to his mustache by the saliva.
From his place, never stopping from firing, Carlos was laughing hysterically at what just happened.
'Judas.' Johnny spat bitterly.
'Ouch!' Troy was still on the floor covering his face and inspected his hand instinctively, two big trails of blood now flowing from it. 'I just saved your fucking life Johnny!'
'And do you think that erases everything you did? Nice try.'
Meanwhile the masako wasted no time and opened fire towards Troy, still on the floor.
Gat turned and fired back, ignoring the grudge for now.
Maybe that was Johnny's way of saying he was ok with it. Or that he though if someone was going to put a bullet in that whistle blower, was going to be him. Who knows?
'Leave it to latter, Johnny. We've got company.' Carlos warned, ready to use the Gating Gun.
Troy picked up his grenade launcher, and neither of the two stopped him from doing so. Hell, they could use an extra hand.
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After dispatching the soldiers, The Boss and Max came out to join the others. Much to her anger and surprise she recognized Troy in the pack.
'What… The fuck… this traitor… Thinks he is doing here?!' She took threatening steps towards him but Max grabbed her from behind by the waist, lifting her as she struggled with rage.
'Don't, he is here to help too. We came together.'
She kept struggling to break free, blinded by the will to tear the ex-Saint apart, Max was having a hard time to keep her from doing so. Troy on his side was really wishing he succeeded .
'Hey Troy! Remembered the Saints now huh?' She said, kicking in the air.' Why, you tired of licking Ultor's balls? What about when Gat was about to get the chair, MOTHERFUCKER?!'
'You! Don't you fucking touch The Boss!' Carlos stepped in immediately, and Max was quick to put her down, since now a gun was pressed on his temple.
There was a moment of tense silence, The Boss kicked a piece of debris on the floor in anger but then regained a bit of calm.
'Later!' She groaned. 'Max is good Carlos.'
He put his gun down slowly, the name making him frown and keep eye contact with the stranger longer.
Meanwhile she pointed at Troy, shaking her arm in concentrated anger, threatening:
'We'll have a word about it.' She spat.
Pierce was the one to arrive and break the awkward silence that followed.
'We're good inside. Shaundi went with her crew to the roof. So what do we do now?'
'I sent some guys to jack a bus, a car, anything big enough we could use to barricade the front of the hideout.' The Boss answered.
Her cell phone rang.
'Yeah? Shit. Ok, I'm on my way. She hung up, turning to Gat. 'Johnny, we got a bus and a fire truck coming, but one of the guys was shot 2 blocks away from here, they need a driver. I'll be back. Can you pump some serious lead and clean everything in that direction after I pass for 5 minutes?'
She knew this was unreasonable, but this was no ordinary man, it was Johnny, one could be unreasonable with him.
'Can a porn star squirt and blow a cock at the same time?' He answered, a smile of 'challenge accepted' in his manly face.
She gave him an approval smirk.
'Boss? Watch your back.'
She held his shirt, rocking her hand back and forth for a while in a sign of friendship.
'5 minutes.'
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I was making my way towards the line of Masako's combat vehicles, running and hiding behind the walls of the buildings, gun in one hand for the masako that were too far, machete in the other for the ones who could come in too close, waiting for intermissions between the attacks to go from cover to cover. This is easier said than done, of course. But I had enough vision to anticipate and shoot. Besides, the guys were covering up for me. Like this I could get close to the entrance, waiting for the opportune moment to throw the grenade and knock them off their guard, freeing the way. It wasn't long before the masako had to withdraw a few steps as the bullets were flying more often towards them.
Johnny must have been enjoying it a bit too much. When I realized that they were close enough to each other to be affected by the grenade range, I threw it in the air, preparing to take a long sprint to the other side.
'Eat this, cabrones!'
I couldn't hate more these armored fuckers.
One of the guards looked up, he saw something, and was about to aim at me. But as soon as he identified the object on the ground, he had to run to take cover, warning his mates.
'GRENADE!'
As they ducked to avoid the explosion, I reunited all her forces to run as fast as I could to the other side, where there was a safe place behind a car.
My sides ached like hell from breathing all the smoke, and for a second my head sunk, vision got blurred from the lack of oxygen causing my paces to be slow. For a while I thought I wouldn't be able to make it, but sounds of bullets so close give you legs in no time. The masako who recovered from the blow were shooting furiously back. Luckly I could take a dive for cover, landing on a pile of garbage. Not glamorous, but at least it couchened the blow.
'The hardest part is done, I muttered, indulging to a few seconds of delicious lying down to catch my breath. 'Now it's the other hard part.
Seriously, when did life ever make it easy for us? Not that I complained about my luck, but still.
I got up and started to run down the street, and soon could spot the fire truck, a bus just behind.
A saint behind the wheel waved at me.
So I waved back and pointed to the bus, indicating I was getting in and that he should get ready to follow.
But as I reached the bus and opened the door I had a terrible surprise. Shit. I didn't think the guy who got shot was him.
Gus, one of my best men, was there, head tilted backwards on his seat, eyes semi-opened. His position was so natural that from afar one could think he was simply taking a nap, if it wasn't for the blood splattered on the glass of the broken window, and a huge hole coming from his stomach to his chest. I hoped that he died instantly and didn't feel a thing,
I liked and respected this kid very much.
'Fuck, Gus.' I said, closing his eyes with my hand, remembering how happy he was when he told me about his new girl a few weeks ago. I checked his wounds. 'Chopper...'
I had to move him away so I could drive, but he was heavy and I was exhausted. It would have been easier to just throw him off the window on the asphalt, but it was too inconsiderate. I wanted him to have a decent funeral, with the respect he deserved at not leave him to become a masako statistic. So I dragged him behind, placing him at the bus' corridor.
Ok, this was no time to mourn the dead. Time to move, so I hopped on the driver's seat and started to drive back to the hideout, followed by the fire truck.
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She accelerated the Cheetah and bumped it's front hard against the unit line, managing to break a hole in the formation, driving over a few unwarned bastards.
'Sorry, party pooper!' She cheered as she put her hand out to give the surprised masako team the finger.
The fire truck was impeccably orchestrated in the move and crossed the unit with ease. Then, powersliding, they turned their sides to the firing squad, providing a solid protection for the ones defending the hideout.
Cries of approval rose from the saints as they saw them.
She jumped quickly on the floor and tried to find a fast way to go for cover at the back of the bus, yet The masako squad fired without hesitate.
'Here Boss! Quit buggin'!' She felt a hand pulling her by the arm, it was Pierce who was firing back at the unit. With his help it was easier to slide under the truck, and then regain position.
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'Who is next, malparidos?'* She cursed.
Max had to chuckle from his position. He lived in Brazil for a short while and did understand some Portuguese. It was similar enough for him to catch the spirit of her curse.
'His mother had a difficult birth, am I correct?' He asked, sending her a Kurkov sliding on the floor as she was running out of ammo for her Shotgun.
She placed the aim at the enemy line, firing mercilessly.
'Yeah. How do they say it in Brazil?'
'I didn't learn a lot, but my favorite was something like yours 'Puta que pariu!'** He screamed in his strong American accent, artfully placing a shot right at an approaching soldier's head. 'Seu arrombado!'***'
'Aww! Te gusta, tragaleche?'**** She cheerfully said to the dead masako, amazed by Max's skill.
At this point he had to stop everything he was doing and duck behind cover, just to laugh hysterically for a sec.
Max didn't laugh out loud a lot, even if he had a very good sense of humor. He told The Boss about the multiple tragedies in his life, she imagined it deprived him of a lot of things. Been light and expansive was just an example. It was good to see him relax a bit.
'Nice to see you're having a good time.'
He was still chuckling.
'Wow; I've forgotten that it's hard to have a boring time around you guys.'
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Under the building, three men fired their guns frantically, even if the line of soldiers was slowly beginning to grow thinner. Pierce and Carlos were exhausted, their bodies covered in sweat and dirt, a few rips in their clothing and brutal fatigue in their eyes showing that they were holding the line for quite a while now. Carlos did the massive job with the Gating Gun, turning and shooting as fast he could, while Pierce covered for any soldier who would come in too close. This had a strange background to contrast: Tobias, an old friend of the Saints and Laura's husband, the one with whom she found true love while discovering drug business. There he stood, chest covered by two bandoulières, his pilot helmet on with his trademark hemp leaf in the front, making an uncanny representation of some sort of stoned Rambo. He too ducked for cover to recharge, also to have a drag from a blunt he carefully stashed under the safety of a trash can, as if in his strange sense of bravery, he was more concerned of protecting it from the bullets than his own body.
From time to time, Carlos raised his head towards the top of the brick building to check on the the others. Shaundi seemed alright, her and Bruno were covering distance with sniper riffles.
He turned his head over his shoulder, towards the other side of the building where The Boss was, and glanced at the man between her and Johnny.
His chest burned, but it had nothing to do with the amount of adrenaline from the day's events. So this was the superhero cop everyone talked about?
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It was 4 PM and the smoke was finally decreasing, after the masako abandoned the Red Light district, defeated.
Troy took a moment of distraction and left the hideout, prepared to make his way back home. It was hard to get oriented yet. He turned right on a brick building, heading for the direction of the car they stole the night before, hoping it was still there.
All of a sudden a cold voice called behind.
'Troy?'
'Huh?'
As he turned he saw a gun pointed to his face.
'Leaving already?' The Boss asked.
She didn't seem very happy.
'What you doing here? Is Johnny injured?'
'If Johnny was injured you think I would be here chatting with you?' She snapped.
'Look, I did what I could. I came here to warn you, I helped you guys getting rid of the masako, I even shoot some colleagues for the saints. I'm done. I have other things to do now. If you want to kill me, go ahead.'
She merely blinked in annoyance, not putting her gun down.
He was getting nervous and pulled a pack of Hell Fire from his shirt pocket.
'Cig? He offered.'
The Boss looked at him firmly and hesitated for a moment. She tucked her gun at the side of her short. Then she took the box out of his hand not really minding her manners and tapped on it upside down, pulling a cigarette. She just threw the packet back at him and walked around. Things were more than tense, but he understood that she was not going to kill him.
At one point they stood there face to face, the cop and the criminal. Against all odds he was the first one to put his head down. Was this shame? Hard to say...
He could read, in this persistence gaze, behind all the hardness and cockiness, one excruciating disappointment and hurt: I thought you were our friend. We killed and would get killed for you. We fought, drink and laughed together. Troy, you were one of us.
'I'm still...' He took a nervous drag of his cig. 'Well, I'm sorry it had to be that way.'
The Boss waved her shoulders slightly, her voice calm but hinting this explanation was nowhere near enough.
'Well, that doesn't change the fact that you did it anyway.' She lighted her own cig.
'I know that what happened last night doesn't make us friends again. I'm not looking for that neither. But, if anything, I do respect you, and the Saints.'
She sank her head pensively.
'I know. I kind of do too. That's why I am not killing you. Not tonight anyway.'
Their eyes finally met. This was it, they didn't have to speak to understand each other. No friendship, but no hate either.
She held eye contact for a bit longer, nodding, then threw the butt on the floor to put it off, leaving.
'See ya Troy.'
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Back at the Saints HQ, a lot was still going on. Taking care of the wounded, fixing and replacing everything that was destroyed.
Without time to take a break, The Boss felt her head sink and leant on the wall for balance.
'Whoa, Boss. You can't keep going like this. You didn't sleep in two days, need to get some rest.' A voice insisted with affection.
'Thanks Carlos. You are right, help me inside.' She lifted one arm in his direction and he grabbed her waist to support.
They headed inside and went down the stairs. An enormous crowd was occupying the place, people lying down and being tended the best as they could, most on the floor.
She started to remove her coat to place herself anywhere, but he interrupted.
'I saved you a place, this way.' He pointed with his head to the corridor.
They got inside a tiny room, he pushed some stuff that were over the bed to the floor and helped her lying down.
He then threw the coat on the floor, sitting over it and leant his back against the wall to rest a bit too.
'Is this your room?' She asked.
'Yeah.'
'I didn't know you liked the Feed Dogs.' She pointed at a poster behind the door.
'I'm not so much into rock, but it was my bro's favorite band.'
'Too bad they suck.' She joked.
'Hmm. And what is your opinion of a good band then?' He chuckled, delighted to see she was taking interest in his life.
'Please. Do you even have to ask? Iron Maiden. Best in the world. Yesterday, today and tomorrow...'
'Yeah, specially yesterday.' He teased.
'Touché.' He heard her chuckle in the pillow. 'I remember your brother. He was nice. She continued more seriously. 'He hanged out with me and Gat from time to time, and even taught me how to play the cards.
'Really? I never knew that. He replied curiously. 'Me too. He was all that when he played.'
'Yes. Wow... It's been a while now.' She stated staring at the ceiling, like lost in old memories. 'He was also the only person that liked that band Brujeria***** apart from me.'
'No way. Do you listen to that shi... I mean, to that too?' He laughed.
'Not always proud of it.' She admitted.
'Now I see where you get your vocabulary from.' He teased again.
'I don't curse that much...'
'You? He grinned. 'You're like 50 Cent with tourette.'
She laughed back and shrugged.
'Boss, can I ask you something?'
She nodded and he risked:
'What's your real name?'
'Oh, fuck you...' She replied simply, though still smiling.
'Oh, ok ok...' He raised his hands chuckling, to show he wasn't going to push it. 'At least gimme something here, like, where were you born?'
She considered it a bit if she should go there, but he seemed so innocently interested she answered:
'Tihuana. you?'
'My family comes from Santiago. Yours?'
'Mexican father, polish mother. Do you have other brothers or it was just you and Hector?'
He shook his head.
'Nah, just us. Too bad he is not here to see the Saints today. He could have been big if he was a lieutenant too. I know I don't deserve it as much as he did. '
'Don't. She said, and turned her gaze away to complete the sentence. 'You deserve much more than that...
He smiled broadly at this compliment, though he didn't quite agree.
'Thanks.'
This was too good, sitting next to her, mindless chatting when she was not so stressed from the gang's business. He didn't want it to end, but he knew she was exhausted so kept silent for a while.
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If you're a Spanish native speaker and you see a mistake, please tell me, thanks!
*Something like an accident of birth.
** Literally 'whore giving birth' but it means something like 'Holy Fuck!', or 'Damn!' And it's used a LOT in Brazil.
***This one is really vulgar. Lol. Means someone who has taken so much in the ass, that he or she is all loose.
**** This one is very funny but most used in Spain. Haha literally 'Milk/Sperm drinker'
***** Brujeria is a Mexican band, really bad in my opinion.