'Where the hell did they take me?' I thought, having a hard time to remember the ride.

Man, I was fried.

Something stung at the side of my neck, explaining everything.

There was Metal music playing and it got louder as I opened my eyes.

This huge and blinding neon sign was in front of me: 'Moulin Gothique.'

Judging by the looks of the place, I was in a nightclub. Apparently where all the Goths of Steelport hung out. It was one of life's ironies, taking by what the theme of the evening was, and what would happen next: Night of the Zombies.

This was some place for a birthday party. What the hell were the guys thinking this year?

As I got up, I tried to readjust my eyes to the darkness and the little light effects that now played on my clothes and on the walls of the club.

Some heavy metal band was playing and everyone banging their heads to the music looked like they stepped right out of a Tim Burton movie.

The place was full, it was only slowly that I managed to open my way to the bar, bumping at those behind me as I struggled through the crowd. I saw no friendly face. Shaundi, Gat, Pierce... Where they waiting to come in and surprise me?

As I finally took sit a the bar, I noticed that, almost immediately, a young man with bright blue eyes lined with smudged khol took the sit right next to mine:

'Are you the Leader of The Saints?' He asked me and his accent gave away that he was British. He pulled his dyed black hair away from his face as he observed me.

Apparently, he knew who I was. I, on the other hand, had no clue who this kid could be. I looked at him, puzzled and he apologized:

'Oh, I'm sorry, that was rude, let me introduce myself...'

He shook my hand politely, but something in his eyes told me that things were about to go terribly wrong:

'Matt Miller. This isn't your surprise birthday party. I've been hacking your phones for over a week.'

Matt smiled in triumph at me, and pointed behind himself:

I saw a door marked 'Employees Only' get kicked open and in a blink of an eye a dozen thugs came out of it and surrounded the bar. They were dressed as The Luchadores and Deckers, the two main gangs of the Syndicate. The band kept playing loudly, unaware of what was going on, but the people next to us withdrew, terrified.

'Why the fuck are you after me, little boy?' I asked, unimpressed.

Matt gave me a small laugh of triumph:

'Let's just say that killing you is a good way to confirm to the Syndicate what everyone knows already... That I am the best, and that the Saints days of glory are well over!'

'But you were you so afraid of me that you had me drugged?'

At this remark his confidence seemed to disappear for a few seconds. 'O-of course not!' He replied, fidgeting.

'You Syndicate bitches, I should've known this was a set up. Do you know what is sad though?' I snapped without taking my eyes from Miller, who was less than an arm length away from me and unarmed.

'What's sad?' He answered. 'Now, let me think: That The Saints thought they could match my hacking skills? That you got yourself killed?'

Matt tilted his head up, getting high on his ego, and kept talking: 'That an old school, legendary crime mastermind like yourself gets defeated by a 16 year old?'

'No.' I corrected him. 'That you're dumb enough to stay so close.'

'What?'

I reached for him and smashed his head on the counter, making his blood splash everywhere. In one motion my left hand went for the pistol at my boot, while the right grabbed Miller by that shitty emo hair of his, using him as a shield.

'Drop your weapons!' I told the thugs, and my gun clicked on his temple.

Meanwhile a disturbing laser light danced around us, searching for my forehead behind Miller's.

'Now or I'll pop his brains out!' I pressed my gun harder and he cringed.

'Aaah! Do it!' His accented voice whined. 'She is not kidding!'

The Deckers, being under Matt's orders obeyed immediately and tossed their pieces to the ground, but the Luchadores lost their patience and started to shoot at us, not caring if they could hit Matt in the process. Apparently they liked him just as much as I did. We jumped for cover behind the counter, bullets whistling above our heads.

I quickly slid a hand inside my leather jacket, glad to find that my 'just in case' was still there.

I took it out of the pocket and put the object on Matt's hand. He gasped:

'A bomb?! Are you mad?! You're not planning on blowing up the club are you?'

'Shut… up... and... Plant it!' I poked the gun at his ribs. 'Do you think this is the first party that goes wrong for me, kid?' I said, reaching for the detonator in my pocket.

'Fuck me!' He muttered sourly, without a choice, and then glued the satchel to the counter. We both heard the device bip.

'Now you are gonna get us the hell out of here!' I told him, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket.

But as we got up, I was too stoned so I slipped over Matt's blood and fell over the detonator.

Beep...Beep...Beep...Beep.

'FUCK!'

Everyone stumbled on each other and jumped to save their asses from the explosion, the room became a mess of fire, screaming costumers and black smoke.

When I opened my eyes, I was on the floor, coughing. My human shield, of course, disappeared.

I tried to get up but before I could do anything a strong fist smacked against my face, making me see stars.

One of Matt's boys hit me hard, and almost busted my jaw.

It infuriated me, I aimed at him but he kicked the gun out of my hand.

'Die, bitch!' He pointed his pistol at me, and shot.

I did my best to roll out of the way, but still felt something tearing the flesh of my shoulder.

'Asshole!' I cursed while kicking his groin.

I was relieved to see him fall to the ground, stunned. But then, behind us, came another masked man, carrying a rifle.

Before I could do anything he pointed it in our direction and shot, I heard the blast and closed my eyes, expecting to feel the pain of the bullet. But to my surprise, it was my opponent who slid to the ground next to me, a hole in his head, oozing his blood over the tiles.

'What the fuck...?'

The Deckers and The Luchadores belonged to the Syndicate, why would he shoot his own ally?

The uncanny, mystery savior reached for my arm and pulled me up:

'This way!'

That voice... There was something familiar about it, but the Boss couldn't develop this impression, because the rest of the Syndicate was still shooting at them.

Hand in hand, the pair dashed towards the elevator, and frantically pressed the button to open the doors.

As soon as they got inside and the doors closed, the Luchador pushed The Boss rather rudely against the mirror of the elevator and started to undo the buttons of her shirt.

'Whoa! Easy man, at least take me on a date first...!' She reacted, as his hands pulled her shirt down, revealing her shoulder and slightly touched the gun wound that was there.

'Ouch! I know, it's a gun shot. No big deal!' She said.

He kept inspecting the wound but got interrupted as the elevator arrived at the parking lot.

The man hastily grabbed The Boss' arm, pulling her towards the silhouette of a motorcycle.

He mounted and started it, stepping on the quick-start, and as it roared, The Boss jumped at the seat too and grabbed his waist for balance.

The Estrada blazed through the garage, hitting the streets at full speed.

'Looks like they're still on our trail!' She warned, spotting a blue van racing to catch up with them.

She heard the engine noise increasing as her masked rescuer tried to put more distance between them, hoping to keep them out of range, but it was too late: Bullets passed dangerously close to the bike, more and more accurate.

She hugged harder on her companion's waist and turned, shooting back with her free hand. The Boss wasted no time and aimed straight for the driver, and with one single shot made the van turn from side to side, losing control. It hit the side of the road and went flying and turning over from the high speed.

Yet before she could celebrate, at least a dozen vans peaked their car lights behind the one she destroyed.

'Holy fuck, they're sending the entire town after us! Step on it pal, they're way too many!' She warned the driver tapping with her hand quickly on his sides.

The masked man nodded and one his hands searched for the Boss', pressing them in a tight grip as if to tell her to hold as hard as possible. He then increased speed from very fast to insanely fast, as he quickly looked behind his shoulder:

They were over a suspended highway and the procession of vans bumped their way closer, like a giant snake making itself queen of the road.

He and The Boss lowered their heads as more shots were fired in their direction.

Dodging the cars on the road at this pace was almost impossible and The Boss thought, in awe, that only such an amazing skill as this man had could avoid a fatal crash. In fact, he seemed to analyze and consider everything ahead of them as a possibility to make a escape.

Suddenly, he took a hard left.

The Boss looked around to see if there was a way out, but then as she saw a huge and empty car carrier truck.

She braced herself understanding what his insane plan was about.

'You gotta be fucking kidding me.'

Both held their breaths in tension as the steel ramps got closer and closer to them.

Finally, there was a violent hit and the bike almost lost stability as they entered the back of the truck.

Quickly as an arrow, it passed through it and came out flying on the other side. The truck driver, surprised as fuck, stepped on the break immediately and the huge vehicle slid sideways on the road.

The Syndicate vans were unable to stop and collided with the sudden roadblock, soon creating an ominous chaos of fire and flying steel.

At the same time the bike landed clumsy over the grass on the sides of the road. The Luchador and The Boss were thrown a few meters away from it, stunned. She tried to raise from where she was but her body refuse to obey. Everything around her was turning but she still raised an urgent hand towards her savior, apparently obsessed with a sudden idea:

'Carlos…?!' This was impossible, he has been dead for years! But he was the only person she knew that could pull such a stunt.

The man didn't reply and her vision started to turn dark, but before she blacked out she saw him throwing his body over hers to protect it from the debris of the explosion and cover her head with his hand.

His body stood there as he also lost consciousness, lying on top of hers as it gave away an unmistakable feeling of care and deep protection.

A few minutes passed until her senses slowly started to come back. Judging by the smoke and fire that kept changing the atmosphere, only a few minutes passed, even if seemed like much more.

As soon as The Boss immersed back in reality she turned to her sleeping companion with an indescribable expression of anxiety and love. She quickly placed her trembling hand on his neck and smiled in relief to see that he was all right.

She glanced at his pale lids and full lips peaking from the mask, noticing a few visible scars across it.

Heart beating wildly, The Boss couldn't wait any longer and tried to pull the mask away from that mysterious face.

With this the Luchador, startled, woke up and snapped her hand away.

As if dreading to have his identity discovered, he groggily got up and stumbled around, trying to orientate himself.

'Carlos?!' The Boss tried to scream desperately but (maybe from the intense emotions that washed through her, maybe from the crash), her voice was nothing more than a strangled whisper. 'Carlos is that you?!'

He didn't answer and rushed towards the bike, but the leader of the Saints got up and placed herself between him and it.

Convinced that it was him, she quickly pressed her lips on his.

The masked man didn't reciprocate, but his body, shaking, seemed contradict his intention to leave. He opened his mouth a bit more, silently pleading for her to deepen the kiss.

And The Boss did so.

A rush of emotion passed through her body and she had to grin, for he took the lead and kissed her back passionately.

Yes, she was kissed like this before, by the same Lieutenant who helped her escape prison and rebuild The Saints... Carlos.

But seconds after she gasped as the man suddenly broke their kiss and freed himself, climbing on the bike and driving away in a blink of an eye.

The Boss stood there, back against the concrete fence she hit with the effort he made to break free.

She breathed deeply, feeling the breeze against her sweated skin. Her legs were shaky, and she touched her lips in disbelief.

Meanwhile, the Estrada disappeared up the street...

I hadn't fully recovered from the shock when I heard a chain sound of bullets coming from afar, muffling the sound of radio. Gen X.

'Gat.' I assumed.

There were tire noises squeaking at the street behind. Soon a green car stopped next to me with a stylish slide.

Johnny kicked a dead Luchador from the seat next to his as meanings to invite me in:

'Yo Boss. Heard that big explosion so you couldn't be far. We had other plans for your birthday.' He took a closer look at my weirded out expression as I hopped in and closed the door. 'Huh? You saw a ghost or what?'

I couldn't decide whether to smile or to faint. I struggled to articulate my words:

'Exactly. You'll... Never guess who I just saw.'

'The fuck? Who?'

'You won't call me crazy?'

'Please. Crazier than you are?' He smiled encouragingly.

He drove around as I told him all about the surprising events of the night.

'It's just that for a second there, I thought it could be him you know?' I tried to sound casual, but my trembling voice gave away the intensity of my feelings. 'And he kissed me back... 'I continued.

Gat gave me a sad, compassionate look.

'Boss... You were high. And come on. Some hot girl kisses a guy, he kisses her back, loads of men in his situation would.'

And then, one cruel fact suddenly destroyed any hope, like lightning striking at the top of a tower.

I could pick a somewhat bitter aftertaste in my mouth. One that I haven't felt since I'd quit because of Daniel. As an ex smoker there was no doubt the person I kissed had a cigarette not so long ago.

'No. Carlos would never smoke...' I sighed. 'I guess you're right. I'm so stupid.'

'You miss him so much, don't be too hard on yourself. Anyone would have been tempted into thinking the same.'

'Thanks Johnny.'I replied, regaining my laid back ways. 'And thanks for saying I'm hot. Let's hit a bar, or the slots.' I both hated and loved my froend for pulling me back to sanity, as usual.

'Good. I know this great place near Let's Pretend, let me call Pierce.'

Hours before that...

South of Salander district there was a small business under a residential building. It was at the same time a mechanic and a vehicle shop. It had a fairly good reputation in the black market. They bought everything undercover from Chop Shop and resold it at a much cheaper prize than the regular market, after changing the documents and license.

A thin man on his early forties came in the store, his irreverent ways of speaking and moving, however, made him look younger. He had two coffees to go on his hand, and placed one of them, the biggest one, on the table as he removed the lid and started to drink the other one.

'I brought you that pussy thing with the vanilla you asked.' He teased his boss, who was under a Superiore, fixing it. 'Are you expecting to grow some balls anytime soon?'

'Your mother likes me just like that, Luís!' A voice echoed from under the car, light Spanic accent in the words, amused by the joke.

'Guess who I just bumped into?' Luís stopped near the car, leaning against it, and the voice answered again.

'I dunno. Tera Parker?'

'I wished. Not really. Remember Ramon? He came to get his car and told me that the Luchadores will bump the Saints at Stanfield.'

The person sighed from under the car, with somewhat exaggerated indifference:

'What about it?'

'I heard they're after... The Boss.'

A squeaky noise came out of the wheels as a man slid himself out and faced Luís.

'What?'

The other man had some of his coffee. 'I am sorry to mention it, but I had to tell you.'

Carlos didn't answer but got up and walked forward a bit, his back turned to Luís now as he sunk his head in deep thought.

'Wait. Where is this thing...?'

'The Gothic nightclub. You ok?' He put one hand on Carlos shoulders, who said almost immediately:

'That Estrada is still there or the client came to pick it up already?'

The employee blinked in surprise:

'Yeah, why? You're not thinking about going to...?'

'Close for the day. I'm taking the piece too, Luís.' He said, and headed inside the store, going to the shelves where accessories and helmets were been displayed.

'Man, you kidding right? After all that... Wait!'

But Carlos was getting himself ready without listening to him, and placed a motorcycle hood over his face, putting the helmet over it.

'You said it yourself, she is with someone else!' He tried to bring his pal into sense, but the only answer to that was the roaring of the Estrada leaving the store and taking the street up ahead.

'Fuck.' The Ex Saint thought, angry at himself. 'Why? You're a moron Carlos. You must like it deep down, been the clown in every situation. The fucking nice guy to the rescue. Great. After that she will kiss you on the cheek and go back home, where that dipshit cop is. You fucking dumbass! What's next, you're going to let him buy you a drink too to thank you for saving his woman?'

After all those years, he reached that point where he was pretty sure he could try and not give at shit. Well sometimes you have a theory during a lifetime, but when the situation is confronted to you, for real... Reason and feelings are just as disagreeing as the last one is urgent.

In the first years he suffered. Hector's ex was more than a friend, she was a sister when he had no one else to turn to, and helped him to start this business. He made a good amount of money. Contrary to his former ways, he slept around, much more than he expected to with his new appearance. Not giving a shit makes things incredibly easier. But inside he was an empty shell, taking nothing more from it as the physical pleasure.

It was good, of course, but compared to what he used to have...

Then, out of habit and to follow life's demanding tide, always moving forward, the big wound stopped bleeding at least. He started a relationship with a nice pretty lady he met at this bar. He wasn't crazy about her, but decided that receiving more love than he gave wasn't so bad. He felt good around her too, it was comfortable. The old wound stung occasionally but more when something happened that made him think about The Boss. And he tried hard not to.

Now, as he lit a cig and accelerated towards the neighborhood that lead to the nightclub, was understanding that living to avoid something is also living for it.

Did he ever really stopped loving her? It was clear now that he couldn't. He knew it deep down, but denied it at all costs, fighting against this and fearing the press and the commercials, or anything that could be related to The Saints like evil itself.

But it had catch up with him somehow.

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More coming soon. Reviews are appreciated! :3