Author's note :
Hello,
Big fan of Saints Row since the very beginning, I have always imagined an incredible life for my Boss, from his childhood, his life as a young man and then as a man, his relationships with women, his friends, his fears, his neuroses, in short, everything that makes up his life!
That's why I've written this fanfiction with love, which will tell the story of his journey from a terrorized child to a self-confident man, head of the biggest gang in America.
I didn't want to make excuses for his behavior, but rather to make him a human being, with his very big mistakes, doubts and successes. Of course, it's also a great story of friendship, love, betrayal and drama of all kinds.
It will retrace the events of Saints Row, Saints Row 2 and Saints Row the third, in a personal rewrite as well as many additions, coming straight from my imagination and inspiration.
Be careful though, some themes are very hard, explicit and would not be suitable for sensitive people.
This story is not suitable for people who are too young, because of the themes, the language and the scenes of sex and violence present throughout the story.
I do not necessarily endorse the language or attitudes of my characters. Please don't be offended by any language, insults between characters, their beliefs or their allegiances, it's not my idea, and don't hesitate to come and discuss it with me. But as the story takes place in the ghetto, I wanted to talk about this verbal violence in everyday life where people can't necessarily be who they want to be and are the victims of racism or homophobic insults on a daily basis.
Please note also, that I am French.
If some phrases, expressions or language are a bit strange or weird, it's probably due to my shitty English. I try to do my best, but unfortunately, I didn't attend English classes very much when I was young and I really regret it!
Please don't be mad at me for that, feel free to correct me to make my story better!
I wish you a good reading!
Third Street Saints forever !
Act 1 - Prologue:
June 2035.
Paris, 6th, France. Nathan Collins' apartment.
The sun's rays were streaming through the shutters of an apartment where calm reigned supreme.
No one had set foot in the apartment for a long time and only the smell of cigarettes that permeated the walls could attest that someone had lived there.
The early morning light illuminated the room, where a film of dust had already taken possession of the furniture.
On one of them, a photo, in the middle of a multitude of children's portraits. A little blonde girl with green eyes, a baby with blue eyes, a smiling girl with big black eyes, two young children who looked like two peas in a pod. Only one of these photos was of an adult couple. A man, rather young, about 25 years old, with brown hair and emerald green eyes of a rare and almost unique beauty, with a slightly older woman with long brown hair. They were holding hands and the way they looked at each other was an unmistakable sign of passionate love between them. Under a beautiful landscape in the snow, they looked happy.
The almost religious calm of the place was interrupted by the sound of a lock, and two women entered.
The younger one, a young blonde woman with green eyes, was immediately overwhelmed by emotion and probably the smell of the place brought back buried memories.
The other woman, much older, remained dignified and upright and looked around the room.
She had aged. Very much so. But the photo could not lie, it was the same woman of the snowy landscape and by crossing her reflection of her in her youth, she flinched.
So he had not forgotten her.
- Mama... There are letters on the coffee table, the young woman realized.
- With a name?
- Yes. Yours.
On the coffee table, there were several kraft envelopes, laid religiously next to each other. Only one of them had a designated recipient.
Sarah Bailey.
The young woman reached out to pass the envelope to her mother, who felt the emotion overcome her. She recognized the handwriting of the person who had written her name.
It was the person who had changed her life.
Feverishly, Sarah tore open the envelope and took out its contents.
A simple letter. Nothing more.
The woman sat down on the couch and unfolded the letter before reading its contents.
The first sentence immediately brought tears to her eyes.
- My name is Nathan-Jeremiah Collins, or more commonly Chris Maddleton. You may know me as Jack Saint, but no matter what you call me, if you are reading this letter, I am dead or dying."
- Oh ... Dad ... the young woman made a vain attempt not to cry.
- "I consider myself lucky to have lived until then, me, who was already condemned when I was not yet born. I have had the chance to live not one but a thousand lives, all of which have been sources of happiness and great misfortune.
I have known misery, fear, abandonment and above all betrayal, but all these annoyances have finally brought me much more, money, power, love and respect. It has not always been easy and I have paid much more than any one man could have taken, but this is the life I have chosen to lead, and to the end, I will have assumed it.
I don't have the ability to change what has been said or done, but now that I realize that I probably only have a few days left on Earth, I have a visceral need to leave some kind of testament. Oh sure, I'm not talking about sharing property or money, of course all those arrangements have been made long ago. It was inconceivable that I would leave without protecting my three children.
As well as the women in my life. You will be protected for the rest of your lives, as well as the future generations that I will never know. This will be my gift to them for not being able to physically be there.
Whatever I may have said or done, I owe you all an apology and now that I am running out of time, I know how much I have done wrong.
But more importantly, how much I am paying for them.
My loves, my children, my friends, I ask for your forgiveness.
I make no excuses, I will go straight to hell for everything I have done here and it will be deserved. But I would just like to explain - at least once in my life - how I could have come to this point.
Again, I'm not making excuses, but I want more than anything for those who have come to love me to know my truth, and not the one that the media will serve up, spitting on me and claiming I was the worst bastard on earth.
Many things will be said, the truth will inevitably be distorted and rewritten and I don't know if there will be anyone left standing to restore my true story in its entirety.
I just want them to understand how the broken child that I was, created the adult that I am and how the lack of love and compassion, made me a monster...
I don't ask you to approve of me or even to understand, it's much too late now, there is nothing more to change. But I know that my silence and my absence have been a burden that maybe you can break by hearing how the little terrorized boy that I was became the arrogant and overpowering leader of what was at the beginning a simple street gang and how the outstretched hand of a man one day, was the best and the worst thing that could have happened to me... "