A/N- Goh man, I don't feel comfortable writing this one…
MASS MISCALCULATION
Episode 33- Battle of the pimps
At the moment, Zimos was on top of life. Selling his product, exploring the moderately clean streets of the now Saints-owned Omega with said product, and hanging with said product. The life of the pimp was pretty laid back, baring the zombie incident last week, but usually stuff like that didn't happen.
And on this day, he decided to go to a local bar to get a feel for the locals of this district, sending his girls away to be alone as he leaned against a pool table, observing his surroundings.
The bar itself was nice, and playing for once was playing something else than techno-electro music. Hip-hop and rap wasn't much different, but in Boss' opinion it was still good.
Zimos surveyed the bargoers, most of them seeing not out of place, a turian arguing with his human friend at the bar, krogan fuming that he was having difficulty playing Saints of Rage, that sort of thing.
And then he did a double take on the old, arcade 2D beat-'em-up, which was very out of place in the bar. Ah, now he remembered, Boss tried to bring retro back to the galaxy. Like that pool table he really wanted to play.
But, as he was racking up the balls to play a lonely game of pool, he heard a whistle behind him, followed by the sleaziest voice he had ever heard say, "what you doin' in these parts?"
Turning around upon hearing the voice, Zimos spotted another human with the most sickly, pale skin he had ever seen, twirling a metal cane with a big ruby on top and garbed in a giant red robe with a red suit underneath, round red glasses covering his eyes along with a red fedora with a red hat covering some long, red hair.
Uninterested, Zimos went back to the pool table, aiming with the cue while asking, "so who are you supposed to be?"
Strolling up to the table with all the swagger a man could muster, the red man replied, "'round these parts they call me Sweet Tooth, purveyor of the more… finer things in life"
"Uhuh"
"Those things including some substances on the on the side, but mainly focused on the more… feminine side of the business"
And that was all Zimos needed to hear, and speaking lowly, his robotic voice vibrating, warned, "if you think you can muscle your ass into my business, your wrong. This is Saints territory, and as long as I'm alive the booty business belongs to me"
"Not that I don't admire the power the Saints had collaborated over da yea's homie, but the business has always been Sweet Toothers, and if Sweet Tooth wants his business intact, he gonna git that business"
And, before Zimos could even react, Sweet Tooth had taken Zimos's pool cue from his grasp and jabbed it directly into his trachea hole, breaking the tip off it it and watching as Zimos gagged before whacking him in the head with the pool cue, again and again.
"How could this have happened, Aaron?" Boss asked solemnly as he gazed upon Zimos's form, resting on a hospital bed in a clinic in Omega.
Surprisingly it happened to be the same clinic Mordin used to run, and it was the first time either Boss or Aaron had been there, the clinic since then being overtaken by Saints that actually had medical knowledge, and the lights, like everywhere else on Omega, had been switched from red to purple. But the place still had that dark, grimy sheen, unlike the rest of Omege that was overworked.
A little over an hour ago some of Zimos' girls had found him beaten in a bar which had been overturned, and had immediately called Boss to inform him, he and Aaron rushing over immediately, with Grejan and Gat accompanying them due to them training on the ship at the time.
"I'll tell you how this happened," Aaron said, beginning to answer Boss' question, "He went into the pimp business. He went full pimp. You never go full pimp"
"Aaron, he's been a pimp his whole life. And he's, like, the oldest guy in the Saints, not counting Randall and Zaeed"
"Yup, and look where it got him. Booty got him, man. It's why I never bothered with it"
Boss really wanted to tell Aaron how ridiculous that sounded, but refrained from doing it for now. "Look, he isn't gonna die. I got some healing juice courtesy from the zin" to prove his point, he held up a syringe filled with a pale blue liquid.
Aaron shook his head. "Boss, maybe we should let him sit this out. We got your classic 'pimp vs. pimp' scenario going on, and I've heard stories. They get brutal"
Boss scoffed. "What's a no-name pimp with no street cred got against us?"
Aaron held up a data pad. "Actually, Kinzie did some digging. Guy's named Sweet Tooth -don't wanna know how he got that name- and apparently he was the main pimp here before we took over. Guy apparently took over the entire underworld ass-dealings and made a monopoly on all women of ill repute. Then he got some guns, yadda yadda, did some stuff, blah blah, he's a pimp, okay?"
"Yeah, whatever," Boss said dismissively as he jabbed the needle into Zimos' chest, and stood back and waited a few seconds before his body started to spasm. He immediately looked around and grabbed his hat and glasses off of a nightstand and stood up, Boss handing him his microphone-cane.
"Daaamn, that was drug trip. Must've been some party, amirite?"
"Zimos you got owned by some pasty motherfucker in a bath robe" Boss stated bluntly.
And just like that, Zimos's head fell immediately. "Damn, I thought that was just a bad drug trip…"
"Well it wasn't, and I'm gone" Aaron said, and proceeded to walk towards the door leading out of the clinic.
Confused, Boss did a double-take. "Gone? The hell do you mean 'gone'?"
"I don't deal with hos so your on you guys' own against the pimp"
"Why the hell not!?"
"You know why fucker!" Aaron called back as the door slammed shut behind him.
As he walked away, Aaron thought about what he said. He had his reasons for not wanting to participate in this shenanigan, and Boss knew very well why. Not since the accident during their childhood.
But before he could reminisce he had accidentally bumped into two asari who, for a reason that was beyond him, wore little to no clothing and were carrying assault rifles.
Normally Aaron would question this, but, while Omega was better now, it was still Omega, so he didn't really want to question it. So he just continued on his way while the two girls strode past him.
"We're getting some payback" Zimos declared.
Boss held two hands up. "Whoa cowboy, dismount for a bit. The guys a super pimp, we're in on this by ourselves 'cause Aarons all 'high and mighty' about this, so he's out, Gat and Grejan is here, sooo there's that, plus all our guys here. And then there's this guy tripped out in all red, with a army of… I dunno, but he's got something"
"Boss, you don't understand," Zimos stepped up to his eye level, "a pimp's pride is all he's got. That and the suits, the moneys, the bitches…"
"Move on"
"And most importantly, a pimp has his pride. And without his pride, a pimp just ain't a pimp… just a washed-up old g with some girls at his siiide"
"… You're a freakin' pimp! What possible pride could you have!?"
"I should have known you wouldn't understand, you just take pride in running a gang and murdering everyone you don't like"
Boss's eyes narrowed behind the sunglasses. "And I earned that right, Zimos, but let me make this clear when I say that you! Are! A! PIMP!"
"Boss I don't like the tone your takin' with me-" the door suddenly opened, two armed and lightly dressed girls stepping in. "-Excuse me girls, I'm busy, and I'll have you know that I had to work hard to get where I-"
"Z get down!" Boss shouted, grasping Zimos' shoulder as he shoved him behind the medical bed and flipped it over, blocking gunfire as the two girls unsung their assault rifles, attempting to pepper the two in mass effect slugs.
"Argh, fuckin' hos, every time!" Boss screamed, pushing the table forwards rapidly and knocking the two girls down.
While the girls were trying to pick themselves, the two Saints vaulted over the table, Boss picking one rifle up and gunning one of the girls down, Zimos doing the same but was to slow to fire, the last girl trying to wrestle the gun from his grasp. Boss gripped her shoulder and forcibly turned her, then punched her in the face and kicked her in the stomach, sending her to the ground where Zimos shot her before she could get back up.
Exhaling, Boss threw down the rifle and stomped over to the door, peeking out the door and immediately ducking back in when he saw five more women firing at him.
"I'm just… I'm just gonna kill everything…" Boss gritted as he closed the door.
"Alright, so, when I thrust the knife at you, you gotta-"
"Gaaat…"
Gat rolled his head in annoyance upon hearing the bored and at the same time angry voice of Boss coming from his omni-tool, and held a finger to Grejan to stop for a minute so he could talk to the man.
Currently, the two were on the roof of the clinic. Grejan was trying to get better with his fighting and Gat was helping him, and all was going well into Gat was interrupted by the Boss.
"What is it man, I'm busy"
"I don't care man, we have issues at the current time!"
Boss's antics never failed to cause Gat to feel less faith for humanity. He was ever loyal to him and all, but… it was times like these that made him wonder.
And as he was about to ask Boss what the issue was, a gunship painted red with a large sticker of what Gat assumed was a person who didn't spend enough time in the sun's face on the side, giving him a big, evil grin. Which in actuality looked pretty ridiculous.
"…I see your point" Gat hung up and grabbed a special knife from his pocket that had a glowing, red light on it, and pressed a button on the side, the edge of the knife glowing a hot white. One this happened, he threw it at the cockpit of the gunship, the knife effortlessly cutting through the glass and nailing the pilot, the knife exploding after a few seconds, taking the gunship with it.
Grejan glanced at Gat. "So, should we… go help them?"
"Yeah…" Gat groaned as he lead the way to the stairwell.
"Man, this is just… so wrong…" Boss muttered as he helped Zimos gun down the employees. Sweet-Tooth even hired gimps…
And Boss didn't know what was worse. The fact that he was gunning down strippers trying to kill him, or that this wasn't the first time he had to do this. Or second. Not even fourth.
The sad part of his profession, he supposed.
"I'm gonna kill that pimp for this!" Zimos toned, and Boss whipped his head in his direction.
"What exactly has he done to us that your this mad!?"
Zimos took cover behind a crate, firing over it. "He sent hos' to kill us!"
"A lot of people have done that to us, I don't really think it's at the point where it matters anymore"
"Look, it's a pride thing, don't try to look into it"
"Yeah. 'Cause god forbid I try to understand pimp pride. You're a treasure to your generation, Z"
"… Is that sarcasm?"
"Of course it is!"
More gunfire rained over their heads, Zimos cursing and ducking down next to Boss, yelling, "don't you have a power suit!?"
Boss pondered this a moment. Most would see this action as strange, especially Zimos, seeing Boss completely calm and collected and thinking so intensely while gunfire, then shook his head.
"Naah, power suit is a big responsibility, and it would get pretty stale if I used it in every single little gunfight we had. We gotta keep it fresh, man," he glanced at Zimos, "but that doesn't mean you can't use your power armor to speed this up. Just saying"
"I don't have it, you took it off from my undercloths so the doctors could put me on the hospital bed" Zimos toned dryly.
"Oh. Well shoot. Eh, I'm sure it will work out for the better anyways, I mean how many more of these people can there be, a dozen?"
Zimos poked his head out momentarily, than ducked back. "About forty," Boss winced, and Zimos asked, "can we get Aaron to help?"
"He's already vetoed out of this one man, we need something else"
"Gat?"
"Good idea," Boss opened his omni-tool and shouted, "Gat!"
"How many more?" Gat asked as he looked down the flight of stairs on the emergency stairwell at the side of the clinic.
Omega was a big place, so, naturally, the buildings were fairly large. And most of this building wasn't even an actual clinic, but it was connected nonetheless and they had been climbing down stair after stair for about ten minutes. The worst part, at least to Gat, was that he couldn't see the bottom yet.
"I'd say a lot," Grejan answered, Gat groaning and leaning over the side. "Hey, look on the bright side… we'll eventually reach the bottom!"
But his attempts at cheering Gat up didn't help at all. "Gre, how about we just put the damn armor on and jump down, huh? Sounds simpler"
"That seems like that would make us lose the advantage of stealth we currently have over the enemy"
"Don't care" Gat said, and watched as the power armor folded over his body, and as soon as this process was done he immediately vaulted over the railing, falling to the ground below.
Grjan sighed as he saw Gat's form plummet. "Never listen's to me…" he muttered as his armor folded over him as he prepared to jump as well.
Normally, due to the technological advancements of the zin, their rifles overheated a lot less than usual, not to mention that the rifles basically had unlimited ammunition, but in times like this even spraying the rifles randomly down a hallway to quell the massing horde of stripper assassins.
If Boss REALLY wanted to, he could have killed all of them right then and there; would have been fairly easy to be honest. But he had Zimos to consider as collateral damage, plus this side of Omega.
…. Not to mention it was one of those days where it was hard to do anything because he was too lazy to. Plus he couldn't really take the situation that seriously when you brought it down to brass tacks- it was one pimp. A single, tiny, insignificant pimp that decided Boss and Zimos were easy to kill so he could get back his little slice of booty on Omega.
The problem with this was that Boss found that too laughable to take the situation seriously. Laughable that someone could look at Boss' accomplishments, everything he had done since coming to this galaxy, and decide that it wasn't good enough to prevent his death at the hand of poorly-trained strippers. Well, guess what? Many people had tried the same tactic before! And it has never worked before. Boss wouldn't let it.
Same couldn't be said for Zimos, though, because he started sweating. "This isn't looking good, Boss"
Boss nodded in agreement. "Yep. This just might be the end for you, Zimos"
"Well, at least- wait," Zimos stared at Boss angrily, "what do you mean 'me'?"
"Zimos, c'mon man, I'm the Boss, I got too much plot protection to die in filler, but you? You can die any second considering the overwhelming odds we are currently presented with"
"… What does that even mean?"
"One day you'll learn the truth, Zimos. One day"
Zimos would have retorted if there wasn't an explosion down the hallway, all assailants immediately falling down as blue balls of plasma, everyone falling.
Boss and Zimos peeked around the corner and saw Grejan and Gat walking up to them, both donned in power armor, Gat asking, "so what's the deal here, Boss?"
Boss jabbed a thumb in Zimos's direction, saying, "it's all because some pimp's trying to muscle in on Zimos' operation here, and Major Prideson decided it would be too much to ask to just let it go"
"To be fair he jabbed a pool cue in my trachea hole" Zimos muttered.
"Yeah to be fair, Zimos, we can fix the fucking hole, but you won't let us" Boss snapped.
It was always a trivial matter for Zimos and his throat hole, and the fact he always wanted it the way it was, even if the zin could fix it rather easily. Some say he wouldn't get used to the feel of readjusting to a healed throat, or that the hole signified something within him, a mark of his status that would be erased if he had it healed.
Personally Boss thought that he just wanted the hole as an excuse so he could have the cool auto-tuning voice and carry the cane around. But again, this was Boss' opinion.
"And I told you that I wouldn't let those doctors near me," Zimos turned around and crossed his arms, glancing back at Boss. "'Sideees, throat hole's all I got going for me these days. Technologies made it so old guys aren't attractive anymore, like meeee"
Grejan came in between them, glancing at both of them sternly. It shut them both up, with Grejan demanding, "you two need to cut this out"
The helmeted gaze was all they needed, both stepping back. Grejan nodded. "Alright, good. Now, we need to discuss the issue at hand"
"When I came to the Saints, I was hoping to find purpose. You gave me that purpose, under Gat," he gestured to the man, who nodded, "and I have enjoyed training under him everyday, getting stronger. It… became my passion. Then I realized that he worked for you Boss, and I've come to realize that you just don't take things seriously"
"I take things very seriously. I just don't take people seriously"
"My point exactly. Now, I willingly work under you, but if we are to deal with the current threat on hand, we need to focus"
Boss tilted his head. "Are you being serious here, man?"
"Well, someone has to. Now first, we'll get Aaron and-"
"Can't, he bailed" Boss interrupted.
"He-" Grejan shook his head, trying to clear his ears, and looked at Boss again. "I'm sorry, he what?"
"He didn't want to do this one so he left" Boss explained.
"… He can't do that!"
"He can and did, so we need something else to work with"
Grejan took a deep breath, then exhaled. Sometimes he wondered if joining the Saints was the right choice.
Could he use the money, yes. The training, yes. Doing his passion in life, yes. He was hoping that he'd find others with the same passion as him, but the others Saints were always too flippant for him to take seriously, but this!
But fortunately, Boss wasn't the Boss for no reason. "But I'm not gonna let this go just like that! Okay? We have a plan"
"We do?" everyone had asked.
Boss nodded. "Yep, we do. Now, I only got about thirty percent of it planned," everyone groaned, "but the rest we'll just wing it. Now, currently this guy is on Omega and is here to stay, so we don't need to call in the boys, we got all we need here; me, you, Z, Gat, and the miscellaneous Saints gang members scattered around the station. I think that should be enough, what do you guys think?"
Zimos raised his cane. "So what's the plaaan?"
Boss raised a hand and started counting fingers. "Well, we got dudes. I can call in the power suit. We have a Gat, we have a Zimos, we have a Boss… screw it, we'll do it old-school style"
Gat turned his head. "With guns?"
"No, older. We challenge the guy and then have a old-school London-Victorian brawl-out in the middle of the street, everyone versus everyone"
"Really?" Zimos asked. In that age where barely anyone had a gun, that might have made sense. But now people did have guns, so usually this of thing went badly.
Although… usually Boss had a plan, so maybe it would work out alright. Maybe. Honestly, Zimos didn't know, but knowing Boss, there was a strong-ish chance it would work.
And upon saying this, Boss ran away, yelling, "C'mon guys, we got a duel to dish out!"
And of course, everyone grunted in annoyance and followed him.
Sweet Tooth groaned out of boredom as he sat upon his throne in his crib ('Throne' being a derogative term for a comfort seat he had stolen from a VIP booth in a nightclub), looking at the screens in front of him displaying so many of his dead henchmen, Saints standing before them.
Then, there was a picture of Boss, just standing there, pointing to the camera and yelling, "Yo you pasty pimp! We're settling this right here, right now! Center of Omega, midnight. Be there"
Normally he wouldn't abide to such challenges, but one of the screens showed him. That little wannabe pimp. Zimos.
Well now he couldn't back down, not if he survived the hit he took out him. He had his pimp pride to look at, after all.
Chuckling dryly, he turned to one of his girls. "Get the crab"
Donned in his power suit, Boss surveyed the field. It was mostly a giant, empty lot in the middle of the station, but on this night it was occupied for once, a ocean of purple on one side, a ocean of… skin… on the other side. And of course Sweet Tooth was at the back of his army, while Boss and Zimos were at the front, Gat and Grejan somewhere in the middle of their forces.
"Yeah, real manly of you, pasty!" Boss yelled across the field. "Hidin' behind a army of ho's like that!"
"'Least I ain't got no fancy power armor to hide in!" the pimp yelled back.
And upon hearing this, Boss had to stifle back a laughter upon hearing what Sweet Tooth sounded like. "Oh my god," Boss laughed, trying the hide the sounds despite having a helmet, "the hell is with that accent? It's so nasally!"
"We're about to fight in a gang war, and your laughing?" Zimos asked, stomping over to Boss.
His laughter died down, and he sighed and he took a glance at his omni-tool. "Nah, don't sweat it Z. Gimme thirty seconds here"
"What happens in thirty seconds?"
"Eh, you'll find out in twenty-seven seconds"
But, apparently Sweet Tooth didn't want to wait thirty second, and upon yelling a order, the army charged
Grejan pushed his way to Boss, the Saints standing their ground. "Boss?" he asked nervously.
Boss looked at Grejan, waving a hand. "Don't worry. At their current distance factored with their running speed it'll take them a good twenty seconds, tops"
"Uh… they sped up" Gat informed, pointing at the approaching army.
Boss looked again. "Oh. Screw it, open fire"
And so they did, both seas of colors opening fire, a wall of purple lasers meeting a wall of mass effect slugs, with some biotics mixing in from time-to-time.
Meanwhile Boss was just sitting back, looking at a clock on his omni-tool, while Zimos, Johnny, Grejan, and the rest of the Saints on Omega were fighting all around them.
"Okay, any second now…" he muttered, Zimos looking at him out of frustration.
"Fooool, what are ya waitin' for?"
"For that!" Boss cried triumphantly, pointing to the sky, the pimp marveling at… nothing.
He looked back at Boss, who was sweating nervously through the suit, but then Zimos suddenly heard many whooshing sounds in the sky, Boss crying, "There!"
And then Zimos gaped as multiple silver ships, ranging from cruisers to battleships, all with purple stripes and fleurs on them, the design obviously being zin, and watched as artillery of all types fell on Sweet Tooth's gang.
Boss chuckled, arms crossed as he gazed at the entire rivaling gang being decimated. In truth, he only had the Saints on Omega to count on, and even with the better gear, Sweet Tooth still rivaled their numbers… somehow. So, he simply wanted to even the odds by calling in some of his forces to help with the fight. Then he had gone to the idea of using them to completely wipe out his forces, so in Boss's eyes it was a win/win/win/win. He would win, Sweet Tooth would lose, he'd suffer minimal casualties, and maybe flaunt a bit of his influence around to deter anyone else from trying to take him on, but this was minimal compared to the bigger picture.
And as luck would have it, it took little time at all to take out the pimp's army, Boss watching as he walked past all the destruction, looking angrily at Boss.
"You call this a fight!?" he screamed at Boss from across the field. "A fleet of ships to take out my army!?"
"Dude if you actually thought I would take this seriously, your wrong," Boss yelled back, "If anything this was just me cleaning the trash off my station!"
"You didn't have a right…" Zimos muttered, shaking his head sadly.
And now Boss was rebounding on Zimos. "You know what, Zimos, I just don't care, okay? I'm sick of all this 'pimp pride' crap, it's my station, my territory, and my revenge against him for putting you in the hospital"
"You didn't have a pool cue stuck down your throaaat!"
"Well you know what Zimos, he standing right over there, and you got a laser gun. Just shoot him right now"
Zimos looked away from Boss, looking at the zin pistol in his hand.
He was old. He didn't like to admit it, but he was. He'd been around enough to know when something didn't feel right, and he didn't feel right about what Boss did. Yes, the problem was over with, but… it was his fight. His pimp pride on the line, Boss didn't have a right to do this.
Then again, he had a point. Technically as a member of the Saints being attacked basically to Boss meant Sweet Tooth declared war on him, and Boss had a way of utterly assimilating or decimating rival gangs, no matter the power or size, so in technical terms it was his right to do this.
"Still don't like this…" the old pimp muttered, raising his pistol.
But, just before Zimos could pull the trigger, Sweet Tooth smiled and pressed a button on his omni-tool, and immediately a dropship flew overhead, dropping something in front of him.
"I knew you homeboys would try to pull a fast one on ol' Sweet Tooth," Boss still cringed at the accent, "So he went and stole himself some insurance"
And to Boss's shock, the package unfolded itself, and he clenched his fists when he saw a zin mech suit, except it was painted gold and the arm-guns had been replaced with long, serrated crab claws, Sweet Tooth laughing as he hopped in the cockpit, the roof closing over and two red lights winking on, the mech suit standing up.
"How the hell- wait a minute" Boss squinted, and saw a sticker of Sweet Tooth's face on the chest, then saw it fall off, a Saints fleur behind it.
"Hey! That's mine!" he yelled, broiling mad. The pimp had crossed the line.
"Hahah!" the pimp laughed in the mech, "You decided to play dirty, so I'm playing back!"
"I used my own stuff, your stealing my stuff!"
"That's business, baby! 'Sides, you just jealous you can afford no giant gold mecha crab!"
At this point, Boss was done messing with the pimp. He crossed the line once he stole something Boss owned, Boss bringing up his omni-tool while saying coldly, "I don't even know what the hell that means. I do know you stole one of my robots. Not to mention you put Zimos in the hospital. So, you got a mecha crab. But let me ask you…" at the press of a button, a silver and purple mech suit dropped next to Boss from one of the ships above, Boss jumping into the cockpit and having the roof close, two purple lights winking on. "Did you really think I'd go anywhere without one of these near? I'ma kill you right here, right now, pimp"
Meanwhile…
"This is the dumbest yet most hilarious shit I have ever seen" Aaron said, resting on the couch back at the penthouse while watching the battle from the TV. After leaving Omega, he had come straight home, hoping to relax, maybe get some NyteBlade in (Matt got him hooked on NyteBlade after a month of subtle suggestion, and he wasn't a fanatic about it but apparently TV in the future sucked, so not much else was on that was good), but instead all he got was a news covering the gang battle on Omega, with Boss slaughtering the opposing gang.
Alright, nothing surprising there, his usual hobby. There was the pimp they've been trying to kill (Damn he's pasty), walking along the carnage- yep, there it is! Damn mech suit.
And they wondered why he didn't wanna do stuff like this. Sure, he loved fun, wacky adventures with his homies as much as the best guy, but he didn't deal with pimps.
He heard sounds of effort next to him, and looked over to see Pierce in the full body-cast trying to grasp a straw connected to a can of Saints Flow with his lips, which were one of the few exposed parts.
Oh yeah, he had to baby-sit Pierce until they got some zin healing juice. And admittedly he was still a little mad about the whole zombie-situation.
So naturally, he took the straw away, Pierce screaming to get the straw back.
"No" Aaron said simply, turning attention back to the TV.
Omega
Boss' mech suit floated in the air, propelled by a jetpack while he blasted Sweet Tooth's mech with rockets and lasers, Sweet Tooth standing his ground.
The guns overheated and Boss hovered in one spot, watching smoke clear… and becoming shocked when he saw the gold mech unharmed.
"What the hell, that things made of gold. It shouldn't even be moving, how the hell's it now blown up yet?" he asked himself aloud.
Boss wasn't a mechanic, but he was pretty sure that mech shouldn't even be moving if it really was made of gold, zin design made it so gold was too soft a metal to use for construction. So how the hell was it still standing…
"Hah! You think this thang's really made 'o gold! It's just paint! All I changed was the hands!" Sweet Tooth said triumphantly.
"… That's just stupid" Boss muttered, seeing the jetpack was about to run out power and hovered directly over Sweet Tooth, the mech dropping right on the gold mech. But, surprisingly, Sweet Tooth used his mech's claws to grip Boss mid-air and slam him on the ground, squeezing the mech, some sparks flying out.
"You really think that I put these claws on for nothing?"
"The claws are a dumb design… and so is the paint!"
Boss brought one of the arms up to the face of the mech suit and fired a rocket at it, blasting the mech off of him and letting him get up, Sweet Tooth doing the same.
"You really think a little rocket's gonna stop me?" Sweet Tooth asked, pointing a claw at Boss. "I chose this paint job and these claws as a symbolization of me, of how I always pinched the competition out, like I'm going to do to you! A pimp! You can't beat that no matter who you are"
"Would you just shut up!?" Boss yelled. "Just, enough of it! Enough of pimp this, pimp that, oh you would not believe how much I don't care anymore! I'm past the point where I'm killing you for stealing my stuff, now I'm just killing you because you are possibly the most annoying person I have ever met in the entire world! Both of them!"
"Wha?"
"In fact I'm pretty sure I'm doing the world a favor for doing this. So guard your grill, pimp. I'm coming in"
The purple mech dashed towards the golden one, smashing it's elbow right into it's midsection, blasting it back a couple feet.
The gold mech shook itself, and saw the purple mech running towards it, so it revved up it's left claw, the bladed appendage spinning, and thrust it forward, hoping to impale the opposing mech. Boss dodged, wedging the claw between the mechs two guns and firing, destroying the claw.
Sweet-Tooth looked at the destroyed claw and growled, then yelped in surprise when one of the turrets on the mech's arm folded in on itself, a five-fingered hand sprouting out.
"Yeah, I put real hands in the design" Boss explained, grabbing the gold mech's foot and flying up while shaking it.
Soon both mech's were far above Omega, Sweet Tooth crying, "The hell did you do!? Jetpack shoulda run out by now!"
"Well I guess you pilfered the old model, new model has hands and a upgraded jetpack!" Boss looked how the gold mech kept struggling. "Taking the guns out really screwed you out, huh?"
"Alright, alright, you got the more pimped-out ride! What exactly are you planning to do now?"
"Well Sweety, all zin mechs happen to have a safety measure of the mech suits opening their cockpits and ejecting the pilot upon a power failure to save the pilot, and this newer model happens to carry a EMP-based self-destruct option. I think you can paint the picture" and without a word, a blue wave of electricity engulfed the mechs, both losing power and both occupants being shot out, Sweet Tooth flailing and screaming while Boss glided over to him, landing on Sweet Tooth's chest with him gasping an 'OOMPH'!
Sweet Tooth screamed, "You crazy! Fall' kill you too!"
"It would if I didn't have this power suit on that can survive any fall," Sweet Tooth's pale skin grew white, the pimp whimpering slightly. "Happy landing, you pasty punk!"
Boss kicked off, sending Sweet Tooth falling down even faster, and finally he landed with a wet 'THUMP', Boss landing softly next to him.
He, Zimos, Gat, and Grejan leaned over the crater Sweet Tooth's body made, recoiling once they saw his mangled, beaten corpse leaking an assortment of fluids.
"He's dead, yep, he's dead" Grejan confirmed, stepping away.
… Then fell down when an explosion occurred in the hole after Zimos threw a grenade in, wiping his hands. "Just makin' sure" he explained.
Boss nodded slowly and turned to see the Saints that were part of the fight he set up, everyone looking at him expectantly.
"We, uh… we won. You can go back" he called, everyone cheering, Boss slowly shaking his head, then looked at Zimos while everyone celebrated.
"There. We killed him. You happy?" he asked.
"Don't know" Zimos started walking, his dramatic steps emphasized by the mechs finally hitting the ground. "Wanted my revenge. Wanted my pride back"
"Say that one more time-"
"Then just to see you erase the problem… kinda gives a old pimp some perspective"
Bright side, guy was dead. Downside, he couldn't do it. He looked at Boss, who was shaking his head as Gat gave Grejan a noogie, everyone else still cheering.
So he laughed a bit, everyone else catching up with him. So what, he wasn't the one to cap him. Who needed to do that when you had your friends, your brothers to help you through to it. That's what friends and brothers were for, right? To help. So maybe he didn't get his pride back, but he didn't need it. After all, he had friends to get it for him.
And as the four walked across the artificial horizon of Omega, the Saints following them, every pimp that day knew, knew that whenever someone decided to stick something in Zimos' throat, that he'd have friends to stick 'em back.
A/N- I dunno, use your imagination. I admit this was a good idea in hindsight but in the end I couldn't squeeze much out of it due to underdeveloped disposable character and whatnot. Went through a lot of unsatisfying rewrite. Still doesn't feel right.
Plus Fallout 4 happened. So blame that for the lateness.
