A/N: Sorry for the short chapter. I'd started off going through all the recruitment missions but it was a bit... boring, honestly, so I cut most of it. I'm still trying to figure out a good balance between showing in game events and showing other stuff specific to Carmen and Elliot.
Anyway, thanks for reading!
"So." Carmen set her burger down on its greasy wrapper, grabbing a fry to shove into her already full mouth. "What now?"
"We find somewhere to set up," Elliot muttered glumly, sipping loudly at his drink. He wasn't fond of any fast food, but Freckle Bitches was the absolute worst and Carmen and Johnny's mutual fascination with the place nearly made him sick. "The old church is out of the question, by the way. It's nothing but a tourist trap now."
"Ultor," Johnny supplied helpfully.
Taking another bite of her burger, Carmen managed, "Yeah, I dropped by there yesterday."
"I've been thinkin'." Johnny leaned forward, sliding the box of Carmen's fries over and taking a few for himself before continuing. "We could clear out that old mission. There's some Samedi holed up down there, but nothing the three of us can't handle."
"Does it have to be another fucking church?" Elliot mumbled, slouching down in his chair and covering his face in his hands.
Carmen gave an unimpressed pffft and, though Elliot couldn't see her face, he was certain she rolled her eyes. "You're in a bad mood. You don't get a say."
"We're not staying in the church," Johnny explained. "See, a while back there was this earthquake that dropped part of the city below ground, and stuff was just rebuilt on top of it."
"Which means there's plenty of room under that old mission?" Carmen guessed.
"Exactly."
There was a loud screech as she pushed her chair back. "I'm in. Come on." As she stood, she reached over and ruffled Elliot's hair.
"Fuck off," Elliot grumbled, grabbing his mostly empty drink as he stood and trudging after Carmen and Johnny. Once they were outside, he called, "And this can't wait until tomorrow?"
"Nah. You're not coming." Carmen tossed a set of keys to Elliot – his keys, he noted – and inspected a pair of unattended motorcycles as she explained, "Me and Johnny can take care of this. You're in charge of recruitment."
He scoffed. "What – just stand on street corners and ask everyone who walks by?"
"That's kinda how I joined, so, yeah. Whatever works."
"I met a few people in prison who might be willing to help us out," Johnny added. "I'll call you in the morning."
"Right." Turning the keys over in his hand, Elliot watched as Carmen and Johnny sped off on the stolen bikes, raking his fingers through his hair and sighing to himself before sliding into his car. It's good they're back, he thought, but he wasn't quite sure he'd convinced himself. Maybe he'd feel better about it all once the Saints were really back, once they had the numbers and the territory that they'd had before.
It wasn't that he didn't like having Johnny and Carmen back around – far from it. Carmen was a pain in the ass, but she was a friend. And Johnny? Elliot was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that death row was no longer a threat; saying it was good to have him back was a massive understatement. The issue, he supposed, was that the Saints were going to come back. It hadn't been long – or rather, didn't seem like long – since Elliot had tried to revive the Saints himself. It had been stupid to try, really; a few months after the explosion that had landed Carmen in the hospital, he'd tried to rally the remaining Saints and retake some of the territory they'd lost.
It had almost worked, at first. But Elliot didn't command respect the way Julius or Johnny or even Carmen had, and the combined threat of three new gangs had driven most of the remaining Saints away before long. Things might have been different if Elliot had been able to take action immediately, instead of being stuck in prison for a few weeks while the leaderless gang grew more and more scattered. But they weren't, and the Saints had eventually dwindled in numbers until there was only Elliot, and he'd had to give up his attempts. It had been a long string of bars and strip clubs and dirty hotel rooms after that, all ways to distract himself from what had seemed, at the time, a complete, life-ruining failure. Then came the desperation – for a job, for the landlords to forgive the late rent just this once, for Aisha to give him a place to stay when they didn't. Working at the bar hadn't been the best job, but it (usually) paid the bills, and Elliot hadn't really been able to plan for much more before Carmen had shown up entirely unexpectedly with the crazy idea of remaking the Saints.
The fact that she was going to do it and succeed made Elliot wonder if he could've, too, if he hadn't given up. It made the past year seem like a waste, really.
But by the time Elliot had worked through all his thoughts on the subject, he'd reached his dingy downtown apartment. He parked, shoving the keys in his pocket, and took the elevator up to the third floor.
Apartment 307 wasn't much to look at. A bed with dirty clothes lying at its feet, a couch with questionable stains that had belonged to the apartment's previous owner, and a small kitchen that somehow always smelled a little like fish. Elliot kicked off his shoes and left them near the door and tugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the couch. As he pulled his shirt over his head, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Letting the shirt fall to the floor, he grabbed his phone and collapsed into bed, still in his jeans.
Check it out! The message was sent from Johnny's phone, but Elliot assumed Carmen was the sender. There was an attached picture, with a grinning Carmen only half in frame. Behind her was a ruined staircase and what looked like a handful of bodies.
It's not exactly what I picture when I think Saints HQ, Elliot typed back.
A moment later, his phone buzzed again. Yeah me and Johnny are thinking it's missing some stripper poles?
He chuckled despite himself. Before he could type a response, Carmen sent a second text.
Johnny says once we get this place cleaned up a bit he'll send you the people to check out tomorrow. We'll get a plan figured out and meet you here sometime tomorrow afternoon. Carmen out.
Tossing the phone onto the couch – and groaning as it clattered to the floor – Elliot buried his face in his pillow and did his best to get at least some sleep.
"Carlos?"
"Hey, Carmen."
Giving him a quick clap on the shoulder, Carmen led Carlos into the main area, where Johnny lounged on the beat up couch they'd found that morning. Shaundi sat on the arm of the couch and Pierce stood behind them. "Alright," she began, calling for everyone's attention. "While Elliot's still out recruiting, the five of us need to figure out the basics. We need guns, we need cars, we need safehouses," she listed off. "Money's good, too. Once we get all that taken care of, we take back Stilwater."
"If you want the chance at a lot of cash, and hurt one of the other gangs in the process," Pierce offered with a shrug, "the Ronin own a casino."
"That's a good place to start," Carmen decided. "You take the Ronin, Pierce; learn whatever you can about them, then tell me how we can hurt them."
Shaundi perked up, squirming on the couch and pointing out, "We could get cash and drugs from the Samedi." Throwing a smug grin back at Pierce, she added, "They've got this Loa Dust shit that they sell to all the university kids. We take them out, we cut off a bunch of their income, sell it ourselves, and smoke whatever's left."
"Even better. Shaundi, you're on the Samedi then. Think you can handle the Brotherhood, Carlos?"
He shrugged. "Sure, Boss."
"Boss," Carmen repeated, turning to Johnny with a grin. "I could get used to that. Johnny, you go find Elliot and the two of you can start on the Ronin."
"Sure thing." He didn't move. "You?"
Carmen rolled her eyes. "I'm gonna find some better guns, then I've got a few calls to make. Now go or I'm gonna kick your ass."
"You couldn't if you wanted to."
With a sigh, Carmen turned and headed back up the stairs. "Whatever," she called over her shoulder. "Just get the cash without getting killed, alright? And you'd better call Elliot soon or he's going to recruit half of Stilwater."
