Chapter 6

Angel had never run so fast in his life. His career as a wrestler had seen him at the peak of physical fitness, but the sheer weight this escape was having on his lungs told him that he had let himself get too out of shape. That was, he supposed, what happened when you fought with a gun instead of a fist.

He turned around. He had lost his pursuers. Even breathing a sigh of relief hurt him. He was in the backstreets now, the city narrows, and safe. On the corner, there was a pay phone. He briefly considered his options, then grabbed some change from his pockets. As he dialled, his hand was shaking.

"Hello?" said Shaundi, speaking into her cell. "Who's this?"

"Shaundi...Shaundi, it's Angel! They found me out!"

"They found you out?" Her voice was immediately panicked. "Shit! How?"

"I don't know! They were waiting for me at home! I just ran...I just ran..."

He was interrupted by a loud shout behind him. He spun around and his heart sank. A dark purple Justice had just pulled up and four Saints got out of it. Each of them pulled a gun on him. He let the phone drop until it was hanging from the chord, and using the cover of darkness, pulled a gun of his own. He faced the four men down, defiantly.

"Boss just wants to talk to ya," said the leader.

"She wants to...use me...as bait," he said, pained. "Fuck...you...assholes."

"You ain't got nowhere to run," the lieutenant said, firmly.

"I'm...done...running." He shot the lieutenant twice in the chest. He went down. An ambitious part of him thought he could hit one more of them, but lady luck wasn't on his side. He heard the roar of a shotgun before he exploded in pain, his every sense dominated by the lead that tore through him. The adrenalin from shooting their leader masked the pain after a second, but every feeling left his body. Then his world faded to black.

One of the other Saints kicked the corpse, confirming he was dead. He looked over at the body of his lieutenant, a brief feeling is sadness washing over him. That was when he noticed the phone hanging by its cord.

Shaundi hadn't needed a running commentary to know that the worst had happened. But final confirmation came when she heard someone else picking.

"That Shaundi?" said a shaky voice on the other.

"Who the fuck is this?" she demanded.

"We're coming for you. Sooner or later."

The church was silent. The True Saints were either in reverence or prayer, casting their eyes down and not looking at each other once. The atmosphere of the room had a palpable smell of death and tragedy. It was exactly the type of sentiment houses of worship were built for.

Pierce had thought long and hard about breaking this silence. The words in his mouth were turning to bile, and he would choke on them unless he spoke.

"Why didn't you tell us Angel was on our side?"

The sentence had wakened the room louder than an explosion. Everyone looked round at once, as if blaming Pierce for interrupting their worship. Then, when they processed his question, they turned to Shaundi, silently demanding an answer.

"He was the only firsthand link we had to Viola," she replied, shakily. "I had to make sure his cover was kept. Any link woulda been fatal."

"Wait a minute." Pierce was on his feet now, alert. "That means you were afraid there was one of us working for Viola."

He could virtually hear the hurt pouring out when he spoke. "Yeah. That's right."

A rage engulfed him. He shot across the room like a lightning bolt, making for the door. Shaundi, who was closer than him, stepped out to stop him. "Wait a minute, Pierce, don't go!"

"Who was it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Who fucking was it?" he screamed. No one in the room had ever seem him raise his voice like that. He was usually calm and collected, even in the most volatile situation. "You had to suspect either me or Oleg of being a rat. If you didn't, you would have laid your fuckin' cards on the table once you saw no one else was coming. You suspected either me or Oleg. Who was it?"

Shaundi sighed. She looked as if the ground would swallow her up. "Okay," she finally said, with a broken voice. "Okay. It could have...it could have been either of you."

"I'm fucking gone," he said, and pushed past her. He got to the far side of the church room, when a gargantuan hand stopped him in his tracks.

"It makes perfect sense, Pierce," said Oleg, now fully blocking his path. Despite his stoic Russian droning, both Pierce and Shaundi could tell that he was stung. The big guy sounded like he could punch a wall (in half) or burst into tears. Pierce could feel him; he had fought for Shaundi loyally, and she suspected him of being a rat. "A good general has to keep some cards close to their chest. Viola could have been blackmailing one of us. There could be any reason for one of us to turn traitor. Sit down."

"Lemme tell you something, Oleg," said Pierce slowly. "You're a good guy. One of the best. Out of all the people we've taken on in Steelport, you might just be my favourite. You play chess. You talk philosophy, and while I don't get some of it, I like hearing you talking about it. Plus...you're eight fucking feet tall, are basically Superman, and could probably tear this place down with your bare hands. But I tell you this. If you don't get outta my way, and this is a promise, I will kick your motherfuckin' ass all over this here House of God. Try me. Try me, motherfucker."

Oleg, who had never heard such a dangerous tone in his friend's voice, promptly stood aside. Pierce burst out the door, and got in his car.

"Wait!" called Shaundi, running out of the church and banging on his window. He took his foot off the accelerator for a moment. "Pierce, please wait. I'm actually kinda begging you here. Not just because I want you by my side, but 'cause I don't think I could do this without you." She looked right at him. "Please, just hear what I have to say. You don't like it, you go anywhere you want, even to Viola. I won't hold it against you. But please, listen to me."

"Alright. Fuck it." He opened the passenger door and she got in. When she was silent for a few moments, he prompted her with, "I'm waiting."

"Oleg was right," she began slowly. "I had to make one hundred percent sure no one was reporting back to Viola before I explained about Angel. I don't know what Viola could have done to make you turn rat. But she's far smarter than anyone. And more devious."

"I always liked you, Shaundi," he said softly. "Me and the boss have always been bros. But I never saw you as anything but a buddy either. Even when you used to steal my ideas an' shit. You were never the enemy. The three of us? I thought that shit was for life!"

"It is!" she said, her voice cracking. "You went halfway around the world just to see him. Any three of us would gladly die for the other. We're the weirdest fucking team in the world. You don't even know my last name. Neither of us even knows his first. But we're family, all the same. Don't matter if we're Saints or not."

"But you didn't think I felt the same way!" he snapped back. "Otherwise, you wouldn't even be able to think of me as a traitor."

"I was wrong," she said slowly. "About you. Even about Oleg. I haven't...I haven't been a good judge of character recently."

"Plus, you kinda changed," said Pierce. "Back in Stillwater, you used to be this super hippie stoner fun-loving chick. Ever since you got here, it's been doom and gloom. Was it just 'cause of Gat?"

"Yeah," she said. "But not just in the way you'd think. First it was Carlos and Aisha, then him. We're all mortal, ya know? You or me could go on an ambush and wind up dead. Even with Angel...I needed someone in Viola's camp, but I was so scared that...well, that he'd get found out. I wonder how they did it?"

"He was a warrior, not an actor," said Pierce. "But he was still the best choice. Just like Oleg was saying."

"I guess," she said, sadly. "But yeah, it was Johnny's death as well 'cause of the mourning. You and the boss seemed to do okay. How come?"

"We sat in the car and sung that Sublime song, karaoke-style. Seemed to help."

"You got a CD of it somewhere?"

"It's in my CD player now. Wanna try it?"

"It might help," she said, optimistically.

"Then, we can go back inside," he said, cranking up the volume.

Viola wasn't too disturbed by the news that Angel had been killed. No True Saints would have come to rescue or bargain for him. Deep cover agents knew the risks, and they knew they were on their own.

He had tried to keep his informing a secret, but the information was too good. Viola found the True Saints knew the Saints' every move, even though the war had only been going on for several weeks. Some Saints were defecting, true, but their place in the chain of command was relatively low, and they couldn't have had that level of knowledge. It stood to reason that there was a higher rat.

She had started surveillance of her generals relatively early. When Enrico was killed, she told Angel, Kinzie and Zimos she would have elite bodyguards shadowing them while on business, in case the True Saints attacked. It told them they were being watched, but it would mean they would be less suspicious if they saw they were being followed. After that, a process of elimination made things all the more easy. Zimos surrounded himself with bodyguards and pimps anyway, and lived the life of an outlandish sex industry giant with barely any notice of the increased surveillance. Kinzie was slightly more hostile to her new 'bodyguards' but she made them tea and instructed them to sit silently to avoid breaking her concentration. Angel, on the other hand, gave himself away relatively quickly. He would be evasive, and take wildly varying routes to avoid detection. He even climbed down a fire escape to make a call. His observers/guards reported back, and Viola had her man.

She stared out of the penthouse window as the sun set and the city lit up in bright neon. It had started raining late in the afternoon, and now she could hear thunder. The headquarters was empty apart from a few guards, and for a moment, she was completely alone with her thoughts. The city before her would be whispering tonight. There would be talk of more deaths in a vicious feud that no journalist would ever know the true reason behind. Things would be made more interesting when they found the identity of one victim. A former wrestling champ. Angel de la Muerte. The Angel of Death. It would lead to a flood of speculation. And all the while, Shaundi was down there, and she would be plotting revenge for her spy.

She felt a strong pang of irritation when the elevator tone distracted her from her thoughts. Zimos had come up from the garage downstairs.

"Hey," she said. "You finish the deal with the union?"

"Yeah-the-shipments-won't-be-watched-by-the-DEA-anymore," he sang.

"Good. You've done well. You're not on duty tonight. What's up?"

"Some-of-the-lieutenants-are-hitting-the-town," he said. "Do-you-want-to-head-over?"

She took one more look outside. "No, you have fun, Zimos. I'm going to stay here tonight. I think there's a storm coming."