The PR disaster turned out worse than the Saints' boss had anticipated but, if Pierce's words were to be believed, not nearly as bad as it could have. The second-in-command had given an official press statement denying the fact that their leader had been involved with Johnny Gat and that whoever had entered the challenge with the Morningstar had to have been a doppelganger out to tarnish the capo's reputation.
The claim was accepted with relief by some, rejected with skepticism by others, but at the very least it cast some doubt upon the recording that had gone viral overnight.

It didn't sit right with Playa to have someone else take the credit for his amazing performance on the show, but after Pierce had practically begged him to keep the bigger picture in his mind, the capo reluctantly accepted the stolen fame.
Besides, if Kinzie's research proved to be right, they would have to deal with the Deckers soon enough to keep their dominance over Brickston.

The Saints came well-prepared and, while the battle between the two gangs wasn't as fast as Playa had hoped, it felt almost too easy to keep the black-and-blue punks at bay. A mid-fight phone call shed some light upon the 'why'.

"Boss! The Morningstars are invading Loren Square!" Shaundi's voice called, the sound of gunfire in the background.

"What!? How could that happen!?"

"It looks like the Syndicate coordinated the two attacks and leaked information about Brickston on purpose. We're trying to hold the line but– ngh! You son of a bitch!" A few gunshots could be heard before she spoke up again. "But I don't know how long we'll manage to keep this up. They're led by Gat and our numbers are dropping fast."

A strange sensation shot through the capo and for a moment his senses were numbed. So it had really come. The day that they could no longer ignore their backgrounds and pretend that there was even the slightest possibility for as little as friendship between the two men. Having been found out about their Professor Genki meetings was one thing. Playa had considered following Kinzie's involuntary advice and changing his appearance to keep going. To keep meeting Gat. But now Playa could no longer disregard that they were very much on two different sides of a war, actively working against each other. It made him dizzy. It made him sick. Of course, he should have seen it coming. It had been the only possible outcome all along. But still… He remembered Gat's soothing voice and his amused chuckle. The way his heart had warmed in the man's presence and how his body had longed for a little more ever since their heated kiss.

"-boss? … Boss!" Shaundi's impatient voice dragged him out of his thoughts and back into the loud reality of the battle that was going on around him.

"Fall back." He ordered over the phone, trying to ignore the heavy feeling inside his chest.

"But boss-..."

"We're too far away to back you up in time and we can't afford to lose any more manpower. Fall back and let's regroup back at the penthouse. We're almost done here."

"Got it." Shaundi agreed and he hung up to focus on the battle at hand.

So that's what Johnny's plans for Saturday had been all along, Playa figured bitterly. Even before their collaboration at Genki's had been made public, the Morningstar had planned to go up against the Saints, and, even as they had sat together sharing some beers, he hadn't bothered to let his friend know about it or give him a single word of warning. Perhaps their friendship had been one-sided, the capo thought hurt and anger bubbling up inside him.
If there was one thing he could not forgive, it was betrayal. And having been lulled into a false sense of friendship and comfort only to be stabbed in the back felt familiar… and was by far the worst kind.

He would find Johnny Gat, he promised himself. And he would end him.

Playa counted down the hours to their meeting the next day and when it was time to leave, he made sure he was armed to the teeth. He was serious about his plan.

"Where are you going, boss?" Pierce asked, looking up from the fashion magazine he had been browsing through.

"To kill Johnny Gat."

Pierce almost dropped the journal.

"Wai– Hold on a minute, for real!?" The second-in-command knew the answer without Playa having to tell him. He knew the look in his boss' eye. He jumped out of his chair and pulled his phone out of his jacket. "Lemme 'round up some guys, we'll need all the help we can get if we're going up against him –."

"No." Playa interrupted him. "I'm going alone."

"You can't be serious–…" He earned a glare. "Okay, you are serious, but it's Johnny Gat we're talking about, boss! The guy who smokes a dozen heavily armed troopers without taking a single scratch! Let me find you some backup at least?"

" No. " He repeated and this time his voice left no room for protest. "This is personal. You send anyone after me I'll expose your little lie about the doppelganger."

Pierce looked away, clearly uncomfortable to let his boss walk away by himself, but he knew better than to oppose a direct order from their notorious leader.

"Promise me you won't get yourself killed?"

"I wish you had a little more faith in me, Pierce. But yeah, I'm not planning to bite it just yet."

With that, Playa left his nervous friend behind and took the elevator down to the garage. He chose an inconspicuous car with tinted windows instead of his purple Vortex to avoid unwanted attention, then, as fast as he could, he made his way over to the warehouse of Professor Genki's Super Ethical Reality Climax.

The capo stopped his car in the dimly-lit parking lot and looked over to the warehouse. Knowing Gat, it could be the end of the world and he would still be standing in the lobby, send him one of his ridiculously charming smirks and pretend that nothing had happened, his true motives hidden behind his dark glasses.
Had it all just been a ploy to lull him into a false sense of security so that he would let down his guard? Had Gat been mocking him behind his back all along, laughing at how easily it had been to fool the leader of the Saints? And, the question that tantalized him the most… Had Gat detected the hint of affection Playa had been feeling, and decided to exploit it for his own amusement?
Every new thought was like coals fueling a dark fire in the pit of Playa's stomach, and when he finally stepped out into the cool night, the only thing left on his mind was murder.

Single-mindedly Playa walked straight towards the entrance, ignoring the shadows that swallowed everything left and right under the moonless sky. Gat wouldn't be as cowardly as to try to ambush him from there.
He reached out to grab the door handle when a sudden force pulled him out of the flickering street light's shine and into the darkness. Not even a split second was needed to recognize its source.

"Do you have a fucking death wish?" Gat spoke in a whisper and Playa hated how smooth it sounded even then.

Without wasting a moment, the Saint threw his fist up to hit the man's jaw, grunting in pain when the punch was redirected and hit the wall next to them instead. He didn't care, though, immediately going for a second strike. Gat caught his arm and used his momentum to throw him against the warehouse. He was quick to pin his arm against Playa's back and hissed in annoyance.

"Cut it out."

Playa jerked to the side and managed to roll out of Johnny's grip. As soon as he hit the floor, he drew his pistol to shoot the man before him and, just before he had fully pulled the trigger, Gat had kicked it out of his grip. The shot merely grazed the other man's upper arm before the weapon landed several feet away from them.

"Okay, you fucking asked for it." The Morningstar growled. He wound up and before the capo could react, a shattering pain shot through his skull and his vision went black.

The low rumble of a car engine and the soft shaking of the vehicle were the first things Playa noticed when he slowly regained his senses. He tried to move but a feeling like a tight hug held his arms in place. With a frustrated groan, the Saint cracked open his eyes and realized that he was lying on the backseat of a car.

"Finally awake?" Gat's voice asked from the driver's seat and the realization of what had happened came crashing down on him.

"You motherfucking– grah!" He spat out as he kicked the Morningstar's seat from behind and felt for his gun in vain.

It seemed like Johnny had made sure to disarm him before he had tied him up - though he wasn't sure if "tied up" really applied to his situation. Apparently Gat had simply zipped him up in his Morningstar leather jacket and tied the sleeves together to tighten the hold. He hadn't even bothered to restrain his legs. All the better , Playa thought and sent another furious kick into the driver seat.

"Hey, asshole, you're the one who started attacking me out of nowhere!" Johnny called back but kept his eyes on the road.

"Out of nowhere!? You attacked my neighbourhood!"

"You mean the one you stole from us first?"

"You knew they were planning that attack, and acted like nothing was going on - even when we set the date for our next meeting!"

"Because we never discuss gang business."

"You still could've given me a heads-up. Not killed dozens of my people!"

"Like you gave me a heads-up with Loren? Killed quite a few of our guys too, as far as I remember."

"I chose not to blow up the Syndicate tower because I knew you were still in it, you fucking asshole."

"And I chose not to smoke your ass in the Genki arena afterwards. You're welcome ."

The way Gat calmly countered every single reproach Playa sent his way was driving him mad and he wiggled to sit up on the back seat, wincing lightly as a sharp pain shot through his head again. Johnny sure hadn't held back with that punch. But if that was so, why was Playa still alive and breathing?

"Driving me someplace nice for my execution?" The Saint commented spitefully and Johnny didn't answer. "Hey, Gat!"

Playa kicked the seat again and was taken by surprise when the car suddenly took a sharp left that threw him to the side. His head slammed against the door and, once again, his vision went red in pain.

"Fuck! Me!" He shouted out and was about to unleash another wave of curses when he realized that the car had come to a halt.

He looked outside but, surrounded by darkness, Playa had no idea where the Morningstar had brought him. The lack of city lights let him guess that they weren't anywhere close to Steelport anymore. Just what exactly did Gat have planned?

"Where the fuck are we?"

"Somewhere in the countryside, I guess. I can't see shit."

"Okay, and why did you drive us to the fucking countryside?" There obviously weren't any other Morningstars around and if Gat had wanted to kill him, he would have done so already. Probably. Unless he had something worse planned for him.

"It's a comfort thing."

"Driving to the countryside is your comfort thing?" Playa repeated skeptically.

"When I can't resort to the first, yeah."

"And that would be?"

"Murderin'."

Well, that made more sense, Playa thought to himself, though it was only one answer to the hundreds of questions weighing on his mind. The confusing situation had managed to warp most of his anger into frustration, but he still was fucking pissed and hoped that Gat would finally start making some sense of it all soon.

"Okay, and why the fuck are we here, then?"

"Judging from your PR team's press statement, I take it that our Professor Genki thing didn't sit too well with your folks. Well, I can tell you that it wasn't much different on my side either. 'cept that I didn't have the liberty to lie about me being there at Genki's. People know that I go and it's safe to say they'd recognize my way of playing, too. Which left them wondering why I'd pass up the opportunity to smoke the leader of the Saints when he's right in front of my barrel." Gat looked at him through the rearview mirror. "Of course I could've played along and said that I knew that my partner wasn't the real deal, but who the fuck would've been realistic to frame as the impostor? It's not every day I run into a shot like you."

Playa didn't know what the Morningstar was getting at, especially with the flattery that his comment implied, and started to become impatient. "So?"

"So I figured I'd stick to the truth. Lying's not really my thing, 'specially when it gets complicated."

"And how did that work for you?" Playa questioned though he was more focused on trying to wiggle his way free from the jacket than on listening to the other's answer. Johnny turned around and, to the Saint's surprise, undid the knot he had tied into the sleeves.

"They offered to spare my head in exchange for yours."

Playa stared back at Gat, so baffled by both the statement and his honesty that he didn't move, even after the other had pulled down the zipper to free him from the jacket. A heaviness began to coil at the bottom of the capo's stomach but before he could break the silence, Gat did.

"If there's a turf war, I gotta stand with my people. I owe them that. But killing you… it just doesn't feel right."

Playa felt a soft sting in his chest and, just like that, his doubts and suspicions about Gat's sincerity evaporated into thin air. He hadn't lied. He hadn't pretended. And, if a fraction of Johnny Gat's reputation was true, the Saint could be certain that the man truly valued their friendship, if he was unwilling to murder him, even on command.
Playa could have drowned in the flood of relief that was rising up inside of him, had it not been for the fatal issue that hung low over them.
One of them would have to die.

"... So what are you going to do?" Playa asked calmly. Realizing that Gat considered him a friend had brought him a strange sense of peace and, aware of the stark difference in strength, it was up to the other to decide how things would end.

"I don't know. That's why we're in the countryside."

"... Right."

For a moment the two men sat in the car in silence. Then, eventually, Playa spoke up again.

"What if you don't catch me?"

"What?"

"You can't kill me if you don't run into me. Give me a heads up where you'll be and I'll make sure not to be there." The Saint offered and, as strange as it sounded, he had a feeling that it could work.

"You want me to start leaking Morningstar operations to the Saints? Nice try."

"Not all operations. Just the ones involving you." Johnny raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, and Playa rolled his eyes. "Or you just keep me updated on where you go, regardless of operations. I'll know where not to show my face and you won't give away any valuable information."

"You don't think this is gonna become suspicious? You never being where I show up?"

"I'm notorious for being lucky." The Saint smirked and, somehow, it finally infected Gat's lips as well.

"You're one crazy bastard." He chuckled as he turned back to the front and turned the car engine back on. "I'm gonna miss this."

"Alright, let's do this." Playa grinned in return, trying to ignore the warm sensation Gat's words had stirred in his chest.

"Time to never see each other again." Johnny agreed and, as dark roads led them back to Steelport, bittersweet smiles rested on the two men's faces.