*This story is inspired in equal parts by Saints Row, Saints Row 2, and the 'Left Behind' RP in the Stilwater Stories section of the saintsrow.com forums section.
*Thanks to Kojote, for allowing me to use Shane in the story.
*This story takes place in New York City. I will be taking liberties in regards to the layout and buildings present.
- December, 7 years before SR:TT
It was a cold December day in New York. The sidewalk was covered in snow, the kind that kids could make snow forts out of. Desmond Wright walked down the street, a light snowfall leaving some sparkling flakes in his dark brown hair. He took a deep breath as he approached the park, his breath leaving his mouth like smoke from a cigarette. Desmond gripped the gun in the front pocket of his grey and white jacket tightly. He had only turned nineteen back in October, and was already on his way to kill someone, and not for the first time in his life either.
Desmond was tense. His heart was racing, and he could feel his pulse in his ears. Some school kids were gathered around a public Christmas Tree in the park, single 'Jingle Bells' in happy tones, each no doubt anticipating the day when they'd wake up and have presents waiting for them under a similar, if smaller tree. He smiled at the thought. Last Christmas, Desmond's dad, Michael, had given his mother, Alice, a necklace. 'An apology and a promise,' he had called it. Michael had apologized for putting them into so much dept with his gambling, and had promised to never bet another cent if his family would stay with him.
He laughed a little at the memory. It was a good one, and Desmond liked to relive it. His smiled faded as he moved further into the park, and spotted the man he was looking for. 'Jacob,' he was called. Or at least that was what Skye said. Normally, thinking about Skye made Desmond smile, but not right now. He didn't like to think of his girlfriend when he hurt someone. Jacob was kind of short, and Desmond could already tell the guy was high off his ass. The 'Widows' did run most of the drugs in the city, so it wasn't too surprising. But still, didn't the old saying go 'don't get high off your own supply?' Desmond was getting close.
The Widows fancied themselves deadly, sneaky bastards, like Black Widow spiders. 'One little prick is your heart's last tick,' some clever fucker had said. Right before Shane had broke ass holeâs nose. Desmond was close now, only ten feet away or so. He looked around. It was quiet, middle of the day. Just a few civilians, no cops in sight. Apparently Jacob liked to come to this park when he was high. It was close to his home so he could grab a snack when he came down. Jacob turned and looked as Desmond.
âHey guy, can I help you with something?â The Widows lieutenant asked, a stupid look on his face. He was brown eyed, and his skin looked like the tan from summer hadn't quite worn off yet. Jacob also looked like he was breathing out smoke, even though it looked like he had finished smoking a while ago.
âYou know who I am?â Desmond asked. He was scared. He'd killed people before, but he still wasn't used to it. It was hard. He understood why Stewart refused to get involved in that particular part of the Clovers' activities.
âNo, should I?â Jacob asked, tilting his head quizzically and staring at Desmond, obviously confused.
Desmond shook his head and took a deep breath. âDoesn't matter.â He said. Desmond pulled the Vice-9 out of his front pocket. The noise of three gunshots ripped through the cold air. Jacob fell down, his blood turning the snow around him red. No more 'smoke' was coming out of Jacob's mouth.
People heard the gunshots. The kids by the tree were screaming, and ran away. It didn't matter. Desmond walked back to the edge of the park. He got into the passenger side of a dark grey Bootlegger, with a brown eyed guy waiting in the driver's seat. âGood job.â Mick said. He took the breaks off and floored it. They had left the park behind them in seconds.
Desmond realized that he was still holding the gun, and stuff it into his pocket, sighing. âWhat the matter, Des?â Mick asked, his voice calm as he slowed to a stop at a red light.
âDid killing him make us any money? Did it get our families outta debt, Mick?â Desmond asked rhetorically.
âNo, but it made all that shit easier.â Mick said, driving through the intersection when the light turned green.
Desmond took a deep breath. He took a picture of him with his parents and sister out of his pocket and stared at it. They were all smiling. The had been the night that Desmond knew he had to get into this crap. He knew he had to make money, and a lot of it. His mom, his dad, and Jessie, his sister... They had all talked about their dreams that night. One day Desmond was going to make those dreams come true, whatever it took. âI guess that makes it alright, then...â Desmond said, his voice monotone.
**Sorry! This is way later than I thought I get it up. But last night I was so tired I basically melted into my bed. It WAS very comfortable though! =D
***Thanks for the cookie lobo!!!!! -omnomnomnomnomnom- mmmm.... cookies :)
- 3 Months Later, March
Thereâs something about March that is just... disgusting. Probably the slush and mud all over the place. No matter where you go, its a shit heap and you get covered in some mess or another. Desmond leaned back in his chair. He was at the hideout where all the plans were made, most of the time Skye made the plans, and the rest of them listened up. She was a lot better at all that stuff then they were. âSo, since the Widows have pretty much folded and aren't even hitting our people when it would be easy, we're going to hit the Giordanos instead.â She said, proud of her plan. She had the blue prints of one of the Mafia controlled back laid out on a table in front of them, and sounded pleased with herself.
âSo, me, Des and Shane walk into a mob bank, take all the money, and then bail before any cops or wise guys show up to try and stop us?â Mick asked, not really trusting the plan very much. He looked over a Desmond and then Shane. âWhat do you guys think?â
Shane just shrugged. âHey, money is money, and banks have a lot of it, right? We may as well hit the guys who are gonna use it to try and bring us down.â The tall man reasoned. Shane had been smiling the minute that he was told they would be robbing a bank. Maybe it was the money, maybe it was the mayhem and violence... hell, it was probably both, let be honest. âDes?â Shane asked, looking at Desmond.
Desmond looked up from the blue prints at Shane and then Mick. âWell... its a good plan. I'm not sure how I feel about you guys pretending to take me hostage though.â Desmond said. That was the plan, really. Desmond would be armed, but the other people in the bank wouldn't know about it. Shane and Mick would be the robbers, and Desmond was the back up plan if shit went wrong. Pretty much par for the course. Whenever anything went wrong, Desmond was usually the quick fix. He looked around. âI mean, couldn't we just do it the normal way?â
âNo.â Mick and Shane said at the same time, smiling.
Skye leaned over and kissed Desmond on the cheek. âIts okay. If they get out of line, I'll take care of them.â She said, offering a wicked grin to both Shane and Mick.
The bank robbery was well underway. Stewart was just around the corner of the street, waiting to pick them up for a clean getaway. He had never shot anyone, or killed anyone. Better if he stayed out of the way when guns were drawn. Desmond sat slumped in the corner. He looked like he was tied up good and tight, like the rest of the hostages. Except Desmond could have easily stood up and walked out of the building if he wanted to. But that wouldn't do much good. Inside his jacket, he had an SMG tucked away, just in case things got out of hand.
They did. The front doors of the bank were blown open, the desks and chairs that had been used to barricade the doors knocked easily aside by the breaching charge. A SWAT team ran in, but Mick and Shane weren't rookies to this game. Mick was the only one who was actually paying attention to the money being moved from the vault to the gym bags that they would carry it all out in. Shane on the other hand was behind the counter, with an AR-200 locked and loaded. He opened fire, and the sounds of men dying filled the bank as the SWAT officers fell. The windows were blocked, the cameras destroyed. The only way for them to see inside would have been to go inside, and they were being punished for trying.
Something was wrong though. It was almost too easy. Like the SWAT team had expected to be shot at as soon as the doors opened. Desmond jumped up and ran up behind Shane. He grabbed the larger around the waist, and spun him around, dragging both of them to the ground. As they fell, a high calibre round whistled overhead, right through the space Shane had been standing just a heartbeat before, and blew a huge hole in the wall.
âThey've got a fucking sniper!â Desmond yelled. That was bad. He rolled to the side and slid the SMG out of his jacket. The other hostages all looked shocked, and were obviously scared now. Desmond winked at them as he get up to his knees and turned, just in time to see a SWAT officer turn around the corner of the counter.
âSir that was very bra-â The officer tried to say. He got cut off as Desmond fired a handful of rounds into his chest.
âStay low.â Desmond said to Shane.
âRight, low... damn near seven feet tall and I have to fucking stay low. Perfect.â Shane muttered. He stayed prone and crawled to the corner of the counter, rolling around the side of it and opening fore again. Only two more SWAT guys were coming in, and they dropped quickly.
âMick?! You got the money?â Desmond asked. As he spoke, he got an idea. He grabbed the SWAT guy he had shot and smiled. The guy had some high explosives on him, no doubt to get through any walls or obstacles in his way. What a generous donation! Desmond took the explosives, and got up, sprinting over to the vault.
âYeah, six bags full. Thereâs a bit left. Thought about pissing on it but I doubt we have the time.â Mick said, grinning.
âWill you shut up and help me with this?!â Desmond yelled, a little louder than he had intended. He started planting some of the high explosives on the wall. âShane's gonna have to duck down to get outta here.â Desmond said. Mick was helping him plant the bombs in what was roughly a door shaped pattern on the wall that would take them right outside to Stewart.
The noise of Shane firing the AR-200 was still ringing throughout the bank. âGuys! I like a good firefight as much as the next guy, but can we hurry this tea party up?â Shane yelled. He was probably about out of ammo by now.
The bombs were ready. âOkay, smoke grenades guys, lets go!â Desmond yelled. He and Mick both pulled out a grenade, and Shane did the same. All three of them were lobbed at the open front doors of the bank. There were three quick, loud popping noises as the grenades exploded, filling the doorway with a think, opaque red smoke. Desmond pushed Mick into the vault, following behind him. He pushed the button that would detonate the explosives. The was a wicked crack like the world had opened up under their feet, and a rush of heat and force, like a giant fist of fire hand punched him in the back.
Desmond grabbed a couple of gym backs and yelled. âOkay Shane Turkey shoot's over, lets go!â He shouted. Desmond ran out the door. Sure enough, Stewart was there, smiling at the as they ran out of the side of the bank through their impromptu 'door.' The trunk was already open. Desmond tossed his bags into the trunk and them scrambled into the passenger seat. âFuck me!â He yelled. âYou couldn't maybe have called in and warned us they were ready to breach?!â He yelled at Stewart.
As Mick and Shane both got into the car, and Stewart started up and drove off, nobody paying attention to him at all, the former boxer just laughed. âI thought you guys wanted me to look inconspicuous. I'm pretty sure letting you guys know a bust was about to happen would defeat the purpose.â He said, still laughing to himself. They got away without any trouble, and made it back to the hideout. The money was all unloaded and put somewhere safe.
Skye walked over and hugged Desmond. âSo, did Mick and Shane give you any trouble?â She asked, smiling a little.
âNo, actually I saved Shane's giant ass from a bullet and yelled at Mick when he joked about pissing on the leftover money.â Desmond said, returning Skye's hug.
âThat wasn't a joke, Des. I did piss on the money, I just didn't need you yelling at me when we made our getaway.â Mick said, now laughing. He was soon joined by Shane and Stewart. âMan, I bet Giordano is gonna have a real sour look on his face when he gets his hands on that money!â Mick added, quite proud of himself.
Skye just shook her head and took Desmond's hand. âCome on, lets go celebrate. They can make their piss jokes without us.â She said, leading Desmond out of the room.
Mick laughed even harder, and jabbed Stewart in the ribs with his elbow. âYou really gonna let that guy be alone with your little sister after an adrenaline rush like that?â Mick asked. This made Shane laugh even harder.
Stewart just looked down at Mick and shrugged. âAt least she's not alone with one of you two clowns. Besides, I'm not gonna tell Desmond what he can and can't do. Either of you guys wanna try?â He offered, grinning.