The days to Playa's Genki-date with Gat drew nearer and while the other Saints did not know of his engagement, they still felt that something was off with their unusually irritable boss. Especially his closer friends had expected the successful revenge in the form of Loren's death to bring him some sort of solace but instead Playa seemed even more restless than before. They did not know the inner battle he was fighting nor the question that weighed ever so heavily on his mind: Should he go to the agreed meeting?

He knew that Johnny had to be furious to have been fooled about the identity of the Saints' leader. The shot that would have ended him, had Oleg not cut loose the ball-shaped counterweight just in time , was proof enough of that. So was honoring their arrangement the equivalent of willingly tying a noose around his own neck?

The Saint wondered how Gat would react if he showed up. Would he shoot him on sight or give him a chance to talk? If so, what would they even talk about? Whatever justification Playa could possibly come up with did not change the fact that they were chess pieces of two opposite colours battling on the same board. They could not coexist. If one stepped into the reach of the other, one of them would have to die.

Despite knowing all this, and despite knowing full well of Gat's ruthless nature, the boss couldn't bring himself to simply ignore the promise he had made. Sure, he had kept his identity secret, but he had never actually lied to the other, and standing him up would not only make him feel like a liar but a coward as well. Because something told him that Johnny would be there.

It left him no choice. He had to go.

Nervosity made his heart flutter as he parked his car in front of the third venue of Professor Genki's show, and he tried to ready himself with a deep breath before he finally stepped outside. It was time.

Playa could feel his pulse drum in his ears with every step he took towards the warehouse's entrance, and as his hand wrapped around the steel handle he wondered when he had last felt that way. Perhaps it had been before his first major heist as a gang member. Or perhaps not even then. Playa couldn't even remember.

He forced himself to push the door open and wasn't surprised when the first thing he saw was Gat, standing at the other end of the room, whatever emotions he felt concealed by his dark glasses. He didn't smile, he didn't approach the Saint. All he did was stare and after a few moments Playa felt the silence weigh on him uncomfortably. Carefully he walked over to the receptionist, a blue-haired girl with heavy eye makeup, and spoke up.

"I'm here to sign up."

"Duo." Gat added curtly, his voice as unreadable as his gaze.

The woman hesitantly looked from Johnny back to Playa and made a small nod before pointing to the display at her left.

"Anonymously again…?" She asked much to Playa's surprise but he figured that the workers either had a detailed database which held a history of each contestant or were very much into gossip. Perhaps both.

Playa felt Gat's gaze in his neck but nodded anyway.

"Yeah."

Even if he didn't have to hide his identity from Johnny anymore, he knew that two opposing gangs working together in a game show wasn't an image either of them should convey.

"Alright then. You're all set." The woman announced, nervous eyes briefly shooting to the Morningstar and back again. "...Good luck."

The time they spent alone in the waiting room felt like an eternity and even the introduction video didn't seem to help fill the suffocating tension between them. Playa wondered if he should say something. They hadn't exchanged a single word yet…

"Liste–"

A gunshot cut him off and the Saint stared at the steel door Johnny had fired against to shut him up. Okay, so no talk.

Gat stared ahead, seemingly ignoring the other's presence, though his tense muscles and clenched up fists gave away that he was anything but calm. The moment the timer ran out, he stormed out of the room and went on a rampage.

Playa had never seen anything like it before. One enemy after the next went down as the Morningstar landed headshot after headshot without taking any time to aim. The moment a new mascot appeared, Gat took it out and ran ahead for the next.
It all happened so fast, the Saints' leader couldn't land a single kill when Johnny's body count was already in the dozens. It was incredible.

It was hard not to stand and watch in awe as the scene before him unfolded, but Playa reminded himself of the ongoing competition between the two men and forced himself ahead too. Johnny was a formidable fighter, but so was he.

The Saint's aim couldn't compete with Gat's craze, but he finally managed to get some kills in, himself. Meanwhile the commentators, too, had trouble processing the speed at which this round was being fought.

"Have you ever seen anything like that, Bobby?"

"Sure haven't, Zach. Gat seems to be possessed by the god of war himself, and Smokey is killing them by the dozens as well."

"This might be our craziest round yet! But how long do you think they'll manage to keep up that speed?"

"I don't know, Zach, but the hunters are already on their way to stop them."

Four giant brutes broke into the hall at once, loaded with miniguns and rushing towards them. Playa managed to take one out before he had to run away and take cover. From the corner of his eye he saw Gat stuff a grenade into another hunter's mouth and blow his head to bits. Despite the sunglasses, he felt the Morningstar look back at him and a rush of adrenaline shot up to his head. A smirk stretched across his face. It was time to step up his game.

Playa took out the remaining two brutes before Johnny could snatch the kills away from him and matched his pace as they ran forward and into the next hall. The adrenaline had washed away his concern about the Morningstar and his admiration for the man's skill. All that was left was the rush of murder and the exciting knowledge that his body count was beginning to catch up to his rival's. He didn't even care that Johnny's shots were aimed dangerously close to him, always missing him barely to take out an enemy at the other side of the room. Did he try to threaten him? If so he was obtaining the opposite effect. The Saint admired his precision that never actually hit him and felt eager to impress the other as well.

A shot missed Johnny's hip by an inch to take down an enemy behind him and for a brief moment the man halted to stare at Playa. Had that pissed him off? Or was he impressed? Playa couldn't tell and a moment later Gat was back at headshotting enemies.
Again and again the two men would almost shoot each other, always hitting a target behind the other to justify their action. And every time it sent a wave of manic excitement through the Saint that almost felt like a drug. It drowned out all thoughts. It drowned out all worries. It drowned out all emotions except the feral pleasure and adrenaline that pushed him further into that high.

His mind was a blur when he took down a brute and, following Gat's example, blew off his head with a grenade. His mind was a blur when the blood that colored his skin red was mixed with his own from a graze shot on his shoulder. His mind was a blur when they finally stumbled through the exit door and the doors slid shut behind them. His mind was a blur when a sudden force threw him against the wall and pressed a gun against his jaw. His mind was a blur when hot, angry breaths infiltrated his own. And his mind was a blur when he grabbed the bloody figure by the collar and crashed his lips against theirs.

The gun pushed harder against his jaw, then trailed down his neck, all while lips moved hungrily against each other, teeth colliding clumsily here and there, as both men let themselves be overwhelmed by carnal desire.

Then, suddenly, Gat pulled away and stepped back to put some distance between them.

"The fuck is this." He asked, his voice hoarse under his heavy breaths.

Playa, whose mind was only slowly coming down from its adrenaline high, stared blankly at him for a moment and still needed to process everything that had just happened. Everything he had just done. Everything that was going on inside his mind and inside his pants. ... Fuck.

"Hear me out." The Saint started and, unlike before, Johnny crossed his arms and gave him a chance to talk. "I didn't keep quiet about who I am to fuck with you. I mean in the… messing… kind of sense…" Playa trailed off, their intense kiss offering a possible interpretation of his words that he had not intended. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I didn't keep quiet to mess with you. I didn't even plan to run into you again after our first meeting. But then you were at Genki's again, wanting to go duo… There wasn't really a chance to tell you, even if I'd wanted to. Which I didn't, to be honest. Not to mess with you though, but because I knew you'd try to kill me if you found out and then this would be over."

" This ?"

"The Genki duos. Believe it or not, I'd actually looked forward to today until shit had gone down." He said, referring to the moment Gat had run into him at the Syndicate tower.

Once again Johnny remained quiet, the gears turning behind those dark sunglasses of his, until he finally uncrossed his arms and turned towards the exit.

"Let's call it a tie this time. I need a shower anyway. And you should take care of that ."

Playa stared at him in disbelief.

"Wait, what do you mean this time ? Will there be a next?" Gat didn't turn around.

"Next week. Same place, same time." And with those words the Morningstar stepped outside, leaving the boss behind on his own.

Once he was by himself, one realization after the next sunk in and sent the Saint on an emotional rollercoaster. Johnny wasn't going to kill him just yet. That was better than any outcome he had dared to hope for. And to top it off, he had told him to meet him again the following week. Anticipation bubbled up inside his chest, only to turn into shock when he also remembered that he had kissed Gat. And that his body had reacted… And that Gat had noticed.
Playa felt heat rise up to his cheeks as he glanced down on himself. As Johnny had said, he would have to take care of that.

When the Saint drove back home a little later, his blood-covered appearance earned him quite a few terrified looks but the happy capo couldn't care less.

Once again Playa started counting down the days to his Genki-date with Gat. And while the other Saints did not know of his engagement, they still felt that something was off with their unusually good-humored boss.