Canonization day.

She heard the shouts before she saw any sign of purple. People pushed by her as she walked towards the sound, and she wondered if they had the right idea.

The Saints were establishing themselves, but rarely ventured out of their chosen territory. Shivington was a VK's paradise, so she'd gotten used to yellow and gold lining everything, but purple? It always made her do a double-take whenever she'd catch it on her street and the guys flying it always bore the color with pride.

Was that Julius's doing? Did he make them feel like they could conquer anything?

Another person darted around her and she held onto that curiosity as she saw the large group gathered around the ruined church. Two people stood on the steps, and she recognized them instantly.

Julius held his head high as he presided over the event, taking in everything at once. He didn't have to say a single word to distinguish himself as leader and even now she was aware of his authority. The man to his right was the same one that had been with him a few nights ago, and much of that same authority was coming off of him as well.

Both were pretty well-kept compared to the other Saints, but if they were the ones running it, they had to stick out somehow.

The bossman, and his second, eh? Holy hell. Way to give a good first impression.

Purple was everywhere as she stayed on the edge and her eyes widened as she caught what was really happening.

A wide circle held a few men and women, most of them unconscious or close to it, and one of the last left standing was currently beating the shit out of the person under him. The bleached hair stood out, but when she caught sight of his tattoos she felt her jaw drop. "Well, shit."

It'd been a long time since she'd seen Johnny Gat, and as he stood up and cracked his neck he was no less striking. You only had to see him once to remember him, and it'd been years since she'd seen him crossing through Shivington. He raised his chin to the crowd as they cheered him on, eating up every minute of it.

The man on the ground groaned and Johnny nudged him with his foot. "Get up."

She couldn't hear anything over the sounds milling around her, but couldn't take her eyes off of Gat as he moved in a slow, deliberate circle.

"You done shooting off your fucking mouth then?"

A chill ran down her spine and she realized this was likely the exact reason that those people were running in the opposite direction of this spot.

He kicked the man in the ribs this time and walked towards the crowd, making them part before him. His unlucky target was dragged behind him by the his collar of his black t-shirt, and Gat deposited him outside of the circle.

Then he dusted off his hands and turned enough to notice her. Sheer and complete panic washed over her in an instant.

"What do we have here?" The smile that accompanied that question wasn't a friendly she was familiar with. "Thought we were done for today."

She tore her eyes away from him to glance at the stairs and settled on Julius and Troy. The former appeared to be pleasantly surprised, but the latter? He appeared anything but.

Julius shook his head. "Not yet. Glad to see you join us, playa. Thinking about taking up the flag?"

Words didn't come easy with Johnny fucking Gat staring at her, but she got them out anyway. "Yeah, if you'll take me."

"Ain't that easy," Gat cut in. "Got to prove yourself first."

She wasn't sure if she liked the sound of that. "What?"

"You're at a canonization, kid," Troy stated, his cigarette dangling from his mouth. "You want in? You get through it."

Julius watched her closely as she switched her attention between the two of them, her head trying not to spin. "Then what are you all waiting for?" she challenged.

Troy raised his eyebrows and Johnny laughed, amused by her response rather than put off. "That's fucking rich. "

Julius gestured for him to step back and Gat scowled as he merged back into the crowd. The circle shifted so that she was now trapped in it, and when a few eager Saints stepped inside she realized that was what she had been watching earlier. Some poor sap's canonization.

Now she had to fight for hers.

Swinging the first punch wasn't hard. It got infinitely more complicated when two decided to force her to the ground after scoring a couple of hits to her ribs. Her boots had a thick sole, and she aimed squarely for knees, balls, anything that hurt.

That let her crawl away and score a few more hits of her own, elbowing one of them in the face, before another wrapped their arms around her from behind. The back of her head collided with them and she stumbled, falling to the ground when she became as rattled as them.

Someone took this chance to hit her right on the jaw, blood flying, and she scratched at them when her adrenaline pushed her through the pain.

Her boot did a much better job when she caught the man in front of her in the face. When she spun around, however, someone had the same idea, and she swore a blue streak when the two-handed strike connected with her nose. She'd never broken it before, but the amount of pain lancing through her face made her feel like it had been.

Blood was everywhere and she felt a disconnect between what she was thinking and what she was doing. She was acting. She had to.

Hit, hit, hit, dodge, kick, hit.

When her sense came back she was straddling another's chest, her knuckles aching. They'd split at some point, and she continued to swear under her breath as she waited for the person under her to respond. They didn't.

That left her with no other option but to get to her feet and wait.

When no one moved or made any further attempts to approach her, she bent over to put her hands on her knees, gulping down air when she wasn't coughing it back out. The rush to defend, to fight, drained away, but it had been almost intoxicating. Losing it highlighted every injury covering her, and she was surprised her legs were able to keep her up.

She thought she could hear some whistles and cheers, but only her ragged breathing registered. The whole world was a small blurred tunnel that she was regaining her focus on with every second.

So when someone put a hand on her shoulder, she didn't respond like she would've in any other state. No, her adrenaline spiked and she took as hard a swing as she could manage, aiming to hit anything.

What she ended up hitting was her 'savior' from the alley, and he stumbled as she reeled herself back in horror. Fuck, he mouthed as she saw him touch his busted lip. "You're no soft touch."

Loud laughter came from her left, but she was rooted to the spot.

He shook it off, but didn't come as close as he did before. "Welcome to the club. Throw a few of those at the other gangs, and I think we'll be in business."

Julius came down the steps towards them and she stood up straight in spite of the pain. "Think you could do some good work here?"

She nodded, slowly at first, then with intent.

"Good, because we need you." He placed a steady hand on her shoulder. "Everyone here needs you, and you are going to be part of the change that that this place needs."

You. That word rang in her head as he turned away and she felt ready. As for what, she didn't know, but she was ready to find out.

She spat more blood out and wiped her face on the sleeve of her hoodie as another guy walked around her to stand by Troy. A few guys back from her days at Stilwater U rocked his style, and the younger man was no exception.

The first few words out of his mouth she didn't catch, but when he turned to address her he gave her a smile. "Not bad! Trying to give Johnny some competition?"

Johnny Gat? Fuck no, her mind told her.

Gat apparently shared her opinion as he circled the edge of her vision and chuckled. "You saying I fight like a pissed off house cat, Dex?"

"Claws are claws. Still sharp enough to cut." He said something else to Troy then left, walking back to the church with the others.

Johnny gave her one last appraising glance and followed, leaving only a few scattered Saints and Troy. He lit a new cigarette and winced at the cut, but didn't say anything about it. Instead he walked past her to pick up something off the ground, and dusted it off before holding it out to her.

She took her hat and put it on, tugging the brim down low. "...Thanks."

"No problem. Want to get cleaned up?"

Her nose throbbed as her fingers grazed it, and she gave him a small nod.

She'd waited outside on the steps while he'd gone inside, stretching her legs as much as they allowed. The other members that had gone through the canonization that day had spoken to Julius one by one, none of them turned away, and she watched them linger before going their own ways. It was interesting to see that kind of faith being placed in them in spite of what should've been classified as a failure, and the questions kept on racking up as she flexed her hands.

Halfway through her sloppy stretches she gave up and laid back on the stairs to stare at the sky. The bright sunlight tried to lull her to sleep, and when her eyes tried to close for the third time she heard steps beside her.

"Hey." She didn't bother to reply as Troy took a seat, his cigarette burning away. It was making her want one. "This might help."

The wet washcloth was cool and felt amazing when she grabbed and pressed it against her skin. Scrubbing the blood off wasn't as great, but without a shower it was the only way she was going to get rid of it.

"You got a name, kid?"

She gently ran the cloth over her cheek as she fished for the first available nickname she could run with. "V."

He raised an eyebrow. "V? Like Victoria?" She held the cloth to her nose and shook her head. "Vanessa?" She shook her head again. "Valerie?" That earned him a look and he chuckled. "Bad pick, eh? All right. V it is."

Pushing herself back up, she dropped the washcloth and undid her mangled pigtails. A lot of her hair was tangled and matted, but smoothing it out gave her something to focus on. "You're Troy, right?"

"Yeah. Sorry to cut out on you like that."

That had bothered her a bit, but logic undercut the irritation that tried to bubble up. "Cops were out. I think I can understand why."

He gave her a faint smile and she tried to return it. "Julius has something he'd like you to do. Up for it?"

She tied her hair back into a low ponytail and got to her feet. It ached to move, but she tried not to show it. "Sure."

"Got a gun?"

That made her pause. "...No?"

"Well, you're going to need a piece for this," Troy said, flicking at his cigarette. "Let's get you set up."

She should've been mad at him. Pissed off in some form or fashion after he'd confirmed and helped throw her into the fistfight to end fistfights.

Instead they were scanning the guns at the Friendly Fire, and whenever one would catch her eye for longer than thirty seconds he'd ask for the man behind the counter to get it. She'd never have known that he'd worn such a disapproving expression upon seeing her earlier, but then again, she'd fought to impress. Maybe she'd impressed even him.

It would've been a whole lot easier to stay annoyed if he'd been a fucking asshole, but as he forked over the cash to pay for the weapon it was quickly becoming clear that he was not. Even traded a joke or two with the guy up front when he wasn't asking her if he should bother getting the gun gift wrapped for the lady.

That made her blush, but she wasn't about to let him see it.

"When's the last time you've been to a range?" Troy asked as they walked out.

"Range? Never."

"Last time you fired one of these?"

"A while." He glanced at her and the uncertainty there made her bristle. "I know how to use the fucking thing. Keep it in front and shoot, right?"

"Sure, if you're at the carnival, kid. Real life's never that simple."

They rounded the corner at the end of the street and V nearly ran into him when he stopped. "What's up?"

"Little eager there?" She frowned and he folded his arms. "Got to give you some background before we go any further. The Vice Kings have been trying to take over the area. It's been pretty gradual, but I see more and more yellow every day. The big problem with this aside from them crossing us, is the fact that they've been shaking down anyone within reach. That can't go on, especially if they're taking it out on the neighborhood."

"So, what's the plan? Take them out?"

"No other way around it," he replied, looking grim. "You don't have Saint's colors yet. That's your cover, and you can use it to your advantage. There's a couple of groups that we need to deal with, and once that's done the VKs will know not to fuck with our turf. Still up for it?"

Point and shoot. Point and shoot. "Hell yeah."

Troy sighed. "Be careful. I've got you covered, but stay focused. This isn't a movie, and you don't get any chances to take back your fuck ups, got it?"

"Okay, chief. No problem," she muttered, walking ahead.

It didn't take them long to find the men. Yellow jerseys stood out like sore thumbs as they lingered on the street opposite from them, and V kept one hand on her gun as she checked for cars and crossed. Troy had said to be careful. That was a no-brainer, but there was no subtle way to go about shooting someone, and as she got closer and closer she felt sweat begin to gather on her forehead.

This was happening. She was going to do this. Clamping down on her anxiety, she forced herself to think of nothing as she gave two of the three men a lively smile, and whipped her gun out moments after.

It was easy to point and shoot. You didn't think about the result until after the loud sound stopped echoing in your ears, but when the first dropped and she unloaded into the second she was caught by the red. It bloomed, and she remained fixated on it as it continued to grow.

Troy grabbed her by the arm and she jumped. "Hey! What did I say?"

His gun was out and she swept her eyes from that, to the other body slumped next to the two she'd taken out. Then they swung back to him. Her stomach lurched and she covered her mouth. The grip loosened as she turned away, and she realized she was shaking.

"V?"

"Give me a second." She swallowed down the bile and opened and closed her hands. "Fucking hell. Point and shoot, my ass."

Pulling away from him, she took one last look at the bodies and moved on. It didn't take long for Troy to follow, and he didn't travel as far back as he had before.

The next group went better. Her mind wasn't allowed to wander and she took them out herself. The last, she openly taunted, her voice wavering as she approached them, and took them out without much of a fight.

But that only distracted her. The sick feeling settling over her refused to leave, and when she fished a set of keys out of the VK's pocket to his yellow junker, Troy stopped her again.

"Can you drive?"

"Of course I fucking can-"

"Hold out your hands."

She froze at first, but complied. Most of the tremors had passed after the first group, so when he let her go she breathed a sigh of relief.

"...Where to? Aside from far from here?"

He took a drag off of his cigarette and watched her out of the corner of his eye. "Got to dodge the heat generated from this, so anywhere should do."

The engine started and she flipped on the radio, not even bothering to pay attention to what was playing.

"You know what?" Troy asked. "I've been jonesing for a funbag."

A smile crept onto her face, and she took the right turn for Freckle Bitch's. "Jonesing? Now that's something you don't hear anymore."

He shrugged. "Trying to make me feel old, kid?"

"Hey, if you're old, you're old. No point in denying it."

That made him snort and she laughed nervously as she scanned her mirrors for any flashing lights. Nothing.

Even when they had pulled into the parking lot she didn't stop checking them, her nerves making her chew on her lip enough to make it sting. "This good?"

"Sure."

He popped open the door and climbed out. Instead of walking off, however, he circled around the front and paused by her side. Her grip on the wheel hadn't let up, and she had to pry a hand off to lower the window.

"Yeah?"

"Let me get you something."

The idea of food turned her stomach. Even on a good day Freckle Bitch's could be rough, but now she doubted she'd even be able to get through a bazoom. The fact that she felt like running didn't help either, but when she looked up at him she hesitated. "I'm not really hungry."

He didn't push it, but she could see that he was hoping she'd go. "You sure?"

The soft tone brought out a weird range of reactions in her head and she found herself scowling at half of them. Not at him, though. "No. Not at all."

She unbuckled her seatbelt and the corner of his mouth curved up.

Troy pushed the small container of fries towards her and V picked one up to twist between her fingers.

"Heavy stuff, eh?" The fry broke and she gave him a tense look. "All this fried shit. Probably shouldn't have dragged you in here."

The small breath she took in was shaky. "Nah, I like it. Most of the time."

"Just not today."

Half of the fry went in her mouth and she regretted it. "Eh."

Troy wasn't doing much eating either as he poked around his small meal. A fry went here and there as he figured out where to put his cigarette, and when he pulled out a miniature O-Ring he placed it on the table and pushed it towards her.

It rolled as far as the tray before coming to an abrupt stop. "You can stop, you know."

He furrowed his brows. "Stop what?"

"Trying to cheer me up. It was shitty out there, and I was shitty about it, so you don't have to sugarcoat anything. I'm not some dumb kid who needs to be eased into things."

"Needing some time to think after killing someone doesn't make you a kid. It's not easy to deal with at first, and it's not supposed to be."

"You sure are treating me with kid gloves, though," she replied, staring down at the toy.

He frowned and put his cigarette down on the edge of the ashtray. "What do you want me to say? That it gets easier? It does get easier. That's the worst part."

She shifted in her seat and met his eyes. "You sound ancient when you put it like that."

"True, and maybe I've had some trouble accepting it too, but I've had more time to think about it. A lot more." He put his elbows on the table and leaned forward. "When it's something that you have to deal with on a regular basis you have two ways of dealing with it. Easy acceptance, or caution. You get comfortable or you don't, but in this life you are going to have to be prepared to face situations where someone's going to get hurt."

"That happens on the way home every day. I'm from Shivington. You could probably put a sign somewhere counting the number of days that've passed since someone got stabbed. Guess what the number would be? Zero."

"You ever been in a situation like that?"

"Too often."

"And what did you think then?"

V rubbed the back of her neck. "I really don't feel like getting shanked today, so I'm going to fuck off or punch the hell out of them?"

His mouth twisted. "But it's either you or them, right?"

She dropped her hand. "...Yeah."

"With these guys you can't hesitate. They get in this for a variety of reasons, but most are going to take the quickest opportunity to shoot down someone in rival colors. Whether you decide to run or fight back, you need to know what your course of action is the minute another banger shows up."

"Even if I try to run?"

"Sometimes the fight isn't worth the cost. You pick your battles and come back swinging harder." She almost cracked a smile, but the serious expression on his face killed that fast. "You willing to do that?"

She let it sink in for a few minutes, twisting and turning the idea in her head. Then she remembered Julius's hand on her shoulder.

It all starts with one. "Yeah, because Julius is right. Things do need to change. The other day a friend of mine nearly got his head smashed in. The Rollerz that did it didn't give a shit how many people saw them, either. They knew they could get away with it before anyone got the nerve up to call the cops."

Troy picked up his cigarette and frowned deeply. "What happened?"

"I beat the shit out of them, what do you think?" she snapped. "They were going to kill him over a discount. How fucked up is that?" V rubbed her eyes and put her chin in her hands. "This is what the city deals with every day, and while I knew it was bad, I had no idea just how much. Might as well tattoo 'ignorant idiot' on my forehead."

"It's not your fault."

"Sure, but I can't make excuses for that. Too many people are dying over stupid shit, and I want to help. Anything you need-"

"Whoa, stop there," Troy said, raising a hand. "It's not about doing anything. It's about doing what's needed. Making hard choices. This isn't the life for everyone, and jumping in feet first isn't going to make it any easier to handle. You want this?"

Funny, with the way he was looking at her, she figured he'd be able to figure out the answer. "Yes."

"All right, then. I want you to remember a couple of things, though. One, this is a choice, not a sentence. You want out? You can get out, because it's not going to get any easier than this. Two, you're never alone. Any time you think you're in too deep or need help, grab a couple of people from the church or call. No one-man-or woman-army shit. That'll just get you killed."

"Call you, or...?"

"Got a phone?"

She fished around in her hoodie and got her cell out. It wasn't looking too hot, but it was working. He took it after she held it out and after a minute she had someone new on her contact list.

"Easy as that," he said, handing it back.

"I can ask some pretty stupid things," she said, glancing at the highlighted numbers. "You sure you want to be on my speed-dial?"

The earnest expression on his face made her drop her eyes. "Nothing's ever too stupid to ask about, got it?"

She nodded and when he shifted his attention away from her she relaxed. The food was a lost cause, however, and she wrinkled her nose at it after flicking away a fry.

"Had enough?"

"...Yeah."

Troy grabbed their trays and gestured towards the door. "I'll take you home."

"Nah, man, don't worry. I can catch a taxi."

"It's no problem," he insisted, and walked away before she could argue it further.

In the end, having him drive meant that she could curl up in the passenger seat and think about nothing. Troy checked on her every now and then, his cigarette switching hands as he went between the mirrors and the radio, and she didn't have the energy to get irritated or annoyed.

No, she didn't feel like doing anything other than dragging her aching body to bed. That was her first priority as soon as she was able to escape this car.

It gets easier. That's the worst part.

Those two sentences, however, would stick with her always.