Chapter 7: Preparing for War, Saints Style
(Saturday, August 28th, 2123)
Johnny and Playa were relaxing at Aisha's place the day after their stunt at the Culex Stadium. They were laying low while Pierce and Shaundi drummed up more support. Carlos had been sent on a supply run for the base at the Mission, and the rest of the Saints were either getting the abandoned underground hotel and mall up to snuff, or working on one of the other projects Playa had planned.
"Well, that went better than expected," Johnny said, looking at a laptop with an amused expression.
The duo were in the living room, lazing about on the couches with some beers. Playa was catching up on the shows he'd missed while in a coma and Johnny was surfing the web.
"Are they talking about us online?" Playa asked curiously, and the lieutenant nodded.
"Hell yeah! Congrats, boss, you're already a meme!" Johnny said, spinning the laptop around so he could see the screen. On it, it showed Playa in his Fog of War costume, arms wide open. The caption, 'Are you not entertained?!' had been put on it, and when Pierce scrolled down, Playa saw the same image but with 'Witness me!' as the caption.
"Good," Playa said with a smirk. "Anything else?"
"Hmm, just some conspiracy theories being thrown around on a few Quirk and Hero sites, and a police bulletin saying you are to be considered armed and dangerous and for civilians to take cover if you're spotted."
"Do I have a wanted poster, yet?" Playa asked eagerly.
In the Post-Quirk era, the U.S. had decided to tackle vigilantism differently compared to other places like Japan and Europe, where it was illegal. In the U.S., the concept of a 'Citizen's Arrest' as well as bounty hunting had already existed. Now, it was modified. Bounty hunting, something of a niche occupation before Quirks, was now a somewhat respectable career, the poor man's heroing.
Villains in the US often got slapped with a bounty and depending on their ranking, the city, state, or even federal government would pay for their capture. It made things trickier for law enforcement, who were already pretty heavily sidelined and defunded, and heroes and bounty hunters often fought over who would catch which villain, but it made it easier for small time crooks to be taken care of when the big-name heroes couldn't or wouldn't go after them.
"Sorta. They just reissued your old one for now," Johnny said after checking a couple bounty hunting sites.
"Hmm, fair. What was my bounty before taking down Richard and Monorail?"
"Quarter mil," Johnny Gat replied.
"That's a lot," Playa muttered.
"Eh, for a local villain confined to a single city, sure," Johnny said with a shrug. "Compared to the USA's Most Wanted List, though, you're small potatoes. You haven't even made it onto there yet!"
Playa shivered. "I'd hope not! Those bastards are terrorists and supervillains! I do not want to be compared to the likes of Scardead, Red River, or Basilisk!"
"Yeah, that's a good point," Johnny said with a shudder of his own at the mention of the Three Most Wanted Supervillains in the United States. "Here's hoping none of them come to Stilwater."
"Fuck you, Johnny, you just jinxed it!" Playa said, throwing his hands into the air in exasperation.
"Chill, dawg, there's no way any of the big-name supervillains are gonna bother with our city!" Johnny shot back. "They're too busy doing their own things in their own territories."
"And that just leaves the wandering psychos to come knocking at our doors," Playa griped. "If Hackjob or, God forbid, Scardead, show up, I'm gonna wear a shirt that says 'I Told You So!' for like a month!"
Johnny rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses at the theatrics of his boss, but didn't saying anything.
A little bit later, Playa's new cellphone rang, and he quickly muted the TV before answering it.
"Yo, Carlos! What's up?" Playa asked.
"I got the goods, boss!" the Hispanic Saint said eagerly. "They look dope!"
"Excellent! Bring them to the Mission, and I'll debrief the Holy Trinity on what we'll be doing tomorrow," Playa said, causing Johnny to glance over curiously.
He then hung up, and turned to his second-in-command. "Johnny! Notify Pierce and Shaundi they need to meet up at the mission tomorrow! Preferably before noon! We'll be talking tactics."
"On it," Johnny nodded, quickly sending a few emails to his fellow executives.
Playa rubbed his hands together excitedly, a creepy smile on his face. "Soon… soon! MWA-HA-HA-HA!"
"Playa! Tone it down with the evil laughter!" Aisha shouted from upstairs, causing Playa to wince.
"Sorry, Aisha!" Playa called back, shutting up afterwards. Johnny snickered.
"Like you're any better," Playa shot back under his breath.
"True," the infamous gun enthusiast nodded. "But at least I'm also sleeping with her."
"Good for you," Playa drawled.
"Damn straight it is! Now, are you going to tell me about this 'plan' of yours?" Johnny asked. "How about a hint?"
"No spoilers," Playa replied. "You'll just have to wait for tomorrow."
The next day dawned without much sun. Rain clouds had begun to darken the sky, and Johnny decided to not take the convertible, just in case it began to pour.
"Do you have any idea how hard it is to dry all that leather?" he'd asked as they went to the garage. "We're taking the van!"
"Well, nobody will think to look for us in this," Playa said slowly. "However, they'd probably pull us over for another reason."
The 'reason' being the fact it was a white van with patches of rust and dirt along the edges, along with tinted rear windows and faded impressions of ice cream and candy stickers on the sides.
"Only happened to me twice," Johnny replied, waving off his worries.
"God, it looks like every child kidnapper's van rolled into one!" Playa uttered, staring at the ugly vehicle hidden away in the suburban home's garage.
"Do you want to get to the mission? Or would you rather take the bus instead?" Johnny demanded as he got inside behind the wheel.
"Fine, fine," Playa muttered, slipping into the passenger's side seat. Morbidly curious, he spared a glance into the back of the van, and frowned.
"Johnny, why are there a bunch of clown masks and burlap sacks in the back?" Playa asked.
"Oh, that was from a job I pulled before I got arrested," Johnny replied. "Bank heist. Was a lot of fun."
"Okay… but there are also a lot of ropes and handcuffs, and… is that a paddle?"
"Aisha is really into some kinky shit. Look, do you want to keep asking questions, or do you wanna go?" Johnny asked.
"Just… just drive," Playa sighed, deciding to shelve this discussion for another day, and hopefully forget the whole conversation.
They zipped through Stilwater, playing close attention to the speed limits. Playa had a hat on, along with a pair of shades borrowed from Johnny,
They reached the Mission, and Playa took a look around the area. The buildings around the area had been taken over by the Saints during the lead up to yesterday's event, and the underground hotel had been cleaned up nicely.
Walking inside, Playa was pleased to see how much had been done to fix it up. The Sons of Samedi graffiti and tags had been scrubbed off or covered up and replaced by Saint logos. Green was replaced with purple, and the wallpaper, pews, and carpet were all brand-new. Even the old cross honoring the fallen from the original Third Street Saints base had been cleaned up and restored, and then put back up.
They stepped into an office room tucked away behind the nave, where Pierce and Shaundi were already waiting, sitting on some old couches that'd been dragged in.
"Thank you for showing up," Playa said as Johnny leaned against the wall. "We've got a lot of territory to grab, and not a lot of resources to do it with. So, we'll have to play this smart."
"What's the plan, boss?" Pierce asked eagerly.
"I'm going to divide you up amongst the Big Three," Playa informed his Holy Trinity. "You will be in charge of gathering information on them, assessing their strengths and weaknesses, and planning operations to weaken them. Pierce, you've got the Brotherhood."
"Got it," he said with a nod.
"Shaundi, you're in charge of dealing with the Sons of Samedi."
She gave Playa two thumbs up.
"Johnny, the Ronin are yours."
"Fun," he drawled out. "Which are we gonna hit first?"
"The Sons!" Shaundi said, standing up quickly. "They've got the least amount of territory and their infrastructure is more vulnerable!"
"I was tempted to start with them, since we probably painted a target on our backs with ousting them from the base, but I decided to go with the Brotherhood," Playa replied, causing her to sit down, disappointed.
"Why?" Pierce asked.
"A few reasons," Playa admitted. "One is that they're a big group but aren't very well organized. Even the Sons are better at that aspect, and a decent chunk of them are high half the time. We can take 'em apart piece by piece. Second, the Brotherhood run protection rackets, which are easier to take over compared to drug rings or the blue collar shit the Ronins are neck deep in."
"Plus, there are the guns," Playa continued, counting off on his fingers the reasons. "If we want to take over Stilwater, we'll need good weapons and gear, and the Brotherhood have that."
Playa then scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "And, well… they're Neo-Nazis. Bigots. And mostly white. It won't exactly look good if the Saints try and attack the Sons when there are actual skinheads to stomp."
"Aight, that's fair," Pierce said with a nod. "Better to use the race card ourselves then have it flipped on us."
Shaundi and Johnny both nodded at that, seeing the logic.
"That doesn't mean I don't want you guys working against the other gangs, just keep it subtle for now," Playa said, turning back to them. "We can't afford a three-way war."
"Observe and infiltrate, got it!" Shaundi said, flashing Playa a smile. "I'll get right on that. I've got some old contacts and buddies I can dig up, find some dirt on 'em."
"I'll leverage my connections in Chinatown," Johnny said. "See if I can get into contact with Mr. Wong."
"That old guy who had me killing people in hotdog suits?" Playa blinked.
"Yeah. He runs – or rather, ran – a lot of gambling joints, legal and otherwise, before the Ronin came in and took over," Johnny replied. "He might help us. He did like you, if I recall."
"Well, if he's willing to help, then all the better," Playa said with a nod. "Now, we'll also need to do a pretty intensive recruitment drive. We have, last time I checked, less than thirty people, us four included. We need more to match the numbers arrayed against us, and to handle all the finances and shit. Speaking of, how many people do the various gangs have right now?"
"The Sons have the least, at around eight hundred confirmed members. However, they likely have a lot more spread out through the city, and they can probably recruit from their own clientele if we attack any of their territories," Shaundi spoke up. "They're also a mixed bag, being either college dropouts from the university, or hardened career criminals from Haiti. The latter have the closest thing to actual military expertise out of all the Big Three gangs."
"The Brotherhood is also kinda tricky to get exact numbers of, but there's probably at least two thousand five-hundred within Stilwater," Pierce informed Playa. "Again, they've probably got twice that if they recruit from the people they demand protection money from or draw from pools of support outside the actual card-carrying members. Racists stick together, and even if they aren't in the Brotherhood or willing to go against us directly, they could still lend their aide in other ways."
Pierce shook his head. "However, their members' quality is… low. These are typical thugs with no training, but their access to a lot of guns gives them plenty of confidence. They can typically win due to sheer firepower when it comes to a straight up fight. Only strong defensive Quirks can weather a few dozen rounds from a 12 gauge, after all. Oh, and they are pretty mobile thanks to their fleet of trucks and cars. I've seen 'em strap weapons to those as well, back during the fights to establish themselves."
"Ah, guns! The great equalizers," Playa sighed theatrically. "We'll need to see about getting some for ourselves soon. Anyways, last one. Johnny?"
"The Ronin are easily the strongest gang," Johnny claimed. "Even if they have about a thousand members, and a lot of them are prissy rich kids playing at being tough gangbangers, there's a strong core of Yakuza that does the heavy lifting for Shogo Akuji. And don't let their swords fool you, they can whip out Uzis and hose you down from a distance no sweat. They're about as mobile as the Brotherhood, too, come to think of it, thanks to their 'cycles. They're fast to respond to any hits on their territory."
"Damn, that's a lot," Playa muttered. "And that's all without taking into account the heroes, police, smaller gangs, and their Quirks. Still, we have one advantage! Former Saints! Reach out to any Saints members who left during the time I was laid up, and see if they're willing to return to the fold. If not, don't press 'em, but if they've joined any of the other gangs, make sure they know that they could get caught up in the fighting if they stay."
"That will help," Johnny said with a nod. "We probably won't be able to bleed the other gangs dry of support, but it will scare them if their members start to ditch 'em for us. We can even use 'em as moles if we play our cards right."
"I like your thinking, Johnny. See what you can do with that angle," Playa said with a nod of approval.
"I think we should do some high profile runs and operations to drum up interest in the gang," Pierce suggested. "Just because we're back doesn't mean we aren't at the bottom of the totem pole right now. There are side-street pimps with more members than us! And if we try recruiting without any evidence of gains to our name, then it's unlikely any former members will risk joining us."
"Also a good point, Pierce," Playa said. "Yeah, we can't expect people to join what they think is a sinking ship. We need to look like we're on the up-swing, and not one bad gang fight from defeat."
"Which we technically are," Shaundi said. "To both."
"Love the enthusiasm," Playa said dryly. His attention – and those of his executives – was drawn to the door when a knocking was heard.
"Come in," Playa said.
"Hey, boss, I got the stuff you asked for," Carlos said, poking his head into the room.
"Good work! Come on in Carlos," Playa said. "Put it next to me for now."
The young man nodded, and wheeled in a cart that was covered with a sheet. Once it was delivered, he stepped back, watching from the corner.
"Now that Carlos had brought me this, I can explain another facet of our plan," Playa said to his lieutenants. "First, though, can anyone tell me what our last big mistake was?"
"Last mistake? As the Saints?" Pierce asked. "Um, letting Julius get caught?"
"Was it not sweeping the boat for bombs before duking it out?" Shaundi inquired.
"Trusting Troy?" Johnny uttered.
"Our last mistake, that is to say, the Saints' last mistake, was a failure to control the narrative. We got blindsided by the media. They were being paid by Richard Hughes and Chief Monroe to fuck with us and paint us in a bad light, and we failed to gather sufficient evidence to reveal their corruption, which is why we had to resort to confronting them directly," Playa said, looking at his lieutenants who all nodded in understanding. "We can't let that happen again. Our creed, to rid the streets of Stilwater of crime and violence by any means necessary, means we're going to be fighting a lot. But we have to make sure people understand that we are better than the villains we take down. That means digging up as much dirt as we can on everyone, and making it publicly known."
"You want to slut-shame the other gangs?" Johnny asked.
"Damn fucking straight," Playa nodded. "We air their dirty laundry, swoop in, kick ass and take names, and make people see that we are the better choice. Of course, that means we're going to have to be even more strict with how our members conduct themselves. The Saints cannot be just another gang. We have to be a movement."
"How do we do that?" Pierce wondered. "We can train the gang members and be a lot more careful with our selection process, but how do you plan on making us seem like we aren't just another group of criminals when we're doing criminal activities ourselves?"
"I'm glad you asked! And the answer is this! Merchandise!" Playa said, sweeping the sheet off the cart and revealing a pile of shirts and hats with the Saint's colors and logo on them.
"Seriously?" Johnny uttered in a deadpan while Shaundi burst out laughing.
"Ooo, soft," Pierce muttered as he got up from the couch and picked up one of the shirts to examine it.
"Dead serious," Playa assured him.
"Hang on… you want us to act like the god-damned heroes!" Johnny shouted in realization.
"Precisely! The only difference between certain heroes and the villains they chase is that those heroes have PR and toy lines. If we make Saints t-shirts and sell Fog of War bobbleheads, who the hell is going to call us a fucking gang?"
"The Number One Hero up in Boston, name of Dynamics, does something similar," Pierce pointed out as he put on the t-shirt he'd been holding earlier. "He runs a tech company alongside his heroing stuff."
"And don't forget all the scandals heroes get into!" Shaunti added cheerfully, recovering from her laughing fit. "Remember when Booster from Austin, Texas, got caught in a prostitution sting? Or when we discovered Monorail was taking bribes from Alderman Hughes to look the other way regarding the illegal realty scams going down in Saints Row? Some heroes are as crooked as the bad guys we plan on putting in their place!"
"It's odd, I know, but we, the Saints, need to stand out. We're basically vigilantes already, breaking a few more rules won't exactly make the heroes less inclined to slap us in irons," Playa said, trying to convince Johnny.
"Well, alright, we'll try this your way," Johnny said eventually with a sigh, agreeing to the plan, crazy as it was.
"Great! Now, Pierce, look into some territories we can snag from the Brotherhood. I want us to start moving against them within the week," Playa ordered, turning serious once more.
"Got it, boss!" the muscular lieutenant said with a nod.
"Can I help?" Carlos asked eagerly. "I wanna stick it to those skinhead bastards for what they did to my brother!"
"Work with Pierce," Playa instructed. He knew saying no wouldn't stop the Hispanic boy from trying to get revenge. At least this way, Carlos' anger could be properly channeled and directed if he worked for the more level-headed Pierce.
"And that's all for today, folks! Organize yourselves, get some feelers out on your assigned gangs, and think up some ways to get the Saints back on the streets!" Playa instructed.
Things were starting to look up!