Author's Note: We're back... It's been a long time, but we are back to give the people what they want. Sorry we took so long, you know life happens and also we take breaks every now and then so that we don't burn ourselves out making sure everything is right before we publish this chapter to you. My partner J3FAwesome continuously sends his thanks for all of the reviews and everything, as do I. We promise to try and keep the updates less than a month, especially with the holidays coming up with time off, we will try to get more updates on both the Saints and Syndicate sides of the story. With that being said, enjoy the Saints chapter and don't forget if you like it, review, favorite, and follow.

The overcast twilight gave way to an ablaze dawn, bathing the entire cityscape in a brilliant amber glow. Albeit the breathtaking scenery as the first glints of sunlight rose over the horizon, stories below the surface of cracked asphalt streets and early risers preparing for their day to come men and women clad in purple garb of all sorts gathered around, heads bowed in respect to their fallen comrades arranged in neat rows.

All of whom sheltered beneath white quilts embroidered with the infamous Third Street Saints crest; an elegant large plum shield stood prominent in the center surrounded by intricate gold curves and a triage of Fleur-De-Lis symbols nestled into the four quarters of the shield.

Vince, the leader of the Saints watched on over the balcony above, his muscular arms groping the polished oak tread that ran along the second floor leading to the flight of stairs to the foyer and bottom floor. His vision swept across the room, surveying the hurt and angry expressions on his follower's features. Releasing a visible sigh, he turned on his heel striding past the luminescent sign reading 'Purgatory' in gold lettering punctuated by pinkish lighting. Upon reaching the large expanse of his office/bedroom he slumped into his genuine leather chair; the material audibly squeaking under his weight.

Once settled, Vincent kicked his feet up on the granite surface of his desk. Scratching absent-mindlessly at the deep crimson stained bandage wrapped around his abdomen. As the bullet wound eased to a dull throbbing with the help of a handful of painkillers, he picked up the remote to his television and pressed the power button. His agitation grew as the familiar disembodied voices that usually drowned out the eerie silence in his office were absent. Suspecting the remote to be the issue, he smacked the back against the heel of his palm in a makeshift CPR procedure to revive the batteries.

"Come on," He muttered intently, pressing down the buttons more firmly the second time around before turning his vision up and spying his beloved flat screen television riddled with more holes than he could count, the shattered remnants complete with sparks emitting from the exposed interior circuitry.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" He growled throwing his head back in exhaustion while combing his fingers through his hair in frustration before hurling the remote at a nearby wall, watching in dark satisfaction as it exploded into a thousand pieces raining down plastic and electric components on the polished marble floor.

After a moment of self-loathing and disappointment into his favored television series' season finale, he was removed from his stupor by a sudden rap at his door frame.

"Yo boss, how you holdin' up?" The tall silhouette spoke as it stepped into the dimly illuminated room, his features slightly more visible. Tribal tattoos decorated the skin on the underside of the man's strong jaw and along his neck which lead to his sharp cheekbones beneath pale skin. His walk across the marble floor in a tall and proud manner despite the slight limp in his step once his weight shifted to his left leg.

Vincent simply waved a hand nonchalantly, causing the other man to release a chuckle that rumbled out from the inside of his large chest as he flipped a chair the opposite direction and took a seat across him.

"Course, only you'd be able to shrug off a gut shot-"

"-Johnny can it wait? I'm watching Bobby and Amber..."

Vincent interrupted with a tired sigh, gesturing to the busted up television. Johnny raised a brow and turned his head back before a humored grin pulled at the corner of his lips.

"Love that episode," he stated, jerking a thumb behind him before leaning over the back of the chair that the front of his torso rested against.

"Like I was saying,"

"I don't have time for this-"

"Always figured you were one that the devil's been waiting on to punch your ticket, 'specially after you survived bailing out from Hughes' yacht after that bitch got grilled up harder than a Freckle Bitches' Bleeder"

Vincent stiffened at the mention of Senator Alderman Hughes. Despite the incident being nearly a decade old, it still managed to plague his subconscious at all times of the day ever since he awoke strapped to a cot in the Stilwater Penitentiary infirmary and his only means of escape was by his soon faithful doe-eyed companion at his side.

He shuddered at the thought...

Since the anti-climactic event, he had always kept himself on high alert, resorting to nothing less than complete hostility to nearly all those he communicated with in hopes of closing himself off completely without the constant nagging paranoia of a mutiny spearheaded by those close to him. Especially when the physiological wound of his only father figure's attempts to burn him alive were still fresh. Albeit his monotonous demeanor coupled with cold indifference, he did in fact allow his anxiety to simmer down so that he could enjoy a few ice-cold brews with his comrades after a victory over their opposers, but not without his fingers grazing the cool steel of his handgun he kept hidden in the waistband of his jeans, not hesitating to react in a situation that would result in gunning down those he considered to be what was as close as he'd get to a real family.

A truly fucked up family on that note...he mused

With a clinically insane, sadistic madman with a pension for morbid acts and pure and utter destruction seated across from him. Or the bickering duo ten years his junior, constantly nit-picking on each other whose relationship could only be described as a sibling rivalry that stemmed from wanting to become known in the criminal other than cheap mixtapes and drugs. Despite their shortcomings, he held each of them in high regard not second guessing himself for a single moment when their lives are in danger, quick to the draw of putting his own life on the line to ensure their safety.

He felt a bit hypocritical at that...

One minute he was willing to spill their blood on his turf to put an end to their betrayal before it began. The next minute, he was willing to spill his blood to give them another minute, another hour, another day on this godforsaken earth.

"Earth to boss, you in there?"

The sudden gruff tone snapped him from his musing, he hadn't realized he had completely zoned out in his own state of recollection, staring into space leaving the room in an awkward silence.

To ease the still atmosphere, Vincent retrieved a bottle of whiskey from the bottom drawer of his desk, producing it and two glasses. Johnny picked up the hefty bottle of alcohol, running his fingers over the label as he grinned from ear to ear.

Bruichladdich X4, 184 proof. "Breaking out the good shit eh?"

He nodded in approval, popping off the cork with his bare hand and poured them both a glass before taking a measured drink; hissing as it hit the back of his throat. Vincent followed suite, instead downing his drink in a single gulp before releasing a pleased grunt in retort.

"Any news on who wrecked our crib?" Vincent questioned, leaning back in his chair awaiting a response with his arms crossed over his bare chest. Johnny took another drink from his glass, grabbing the bottle for a refill before he spoke.

"Sent the boys out to gather some intel and lock down our turf, but all we got so far is that they were flying Samedi colors-but get this," He pointed a finger from the hand he held the glass in. "Our guys' street side said there were some Ronin and Brothers poking around before the Samedi showed up"

The only sign of surprise present on Vincent's face was the slight raise of his eyebrow as he poured himself another drink.

"Only a matter of time before they started using their heads," He took a sip and let out a disgruntled sigh. "If it isn't one thing; it's another"

Vincent stood and walked across the room towards a large window that expanded the entirety of the wall of his office, peering down below at the small clusters of men and women clad in purple garb talking among themselves; by their body language alone he could assume that some were in heated debates over the recent events.

"Crew's getting restless" Johnny stated.

He now stood next to Vincent, their broad shoulders inches apart as they watched below at the people who would follow them through hell and back at the snap of a finger.

"Lost a lot of people," Vincent added solemnly, his grip tightening on his glass enough to turn his knuckles pale.

"You see Shaundi or Pierce around?" He questioned, and Johnny nodded.

"Pierce went off with the boys chasing after some Samedi that were camping out in the parking lot," He took a sip before continuing. "Shaundi, haven't seen head or tail of her since the raid began, might be locked up in her room."

Vincent sighed at that shaking his head, forcing back his boiling anger at the teen.

"Good, the less she's around the better" He mumbled, scratching at the light hair gathering around his jaw line, reminding him to shave soon. "She practically opened the front door for them."

"I don't think that's how it went but-" Johnny attempted to protest, but instead Vincent turned on his heel throwing the glass against the wall behind them; the glass shattering into a thousand pieces before raining down on the tiled floor.

"It is exactly like that!" He screamed, striding over to his desk. With tremendous force, he lifted the monstrosity up off the floor; his muscles straining underneath the pressure. He pushed it forward before launching it over the edge of the now broken ceiling to floor window he and Johnny had stood.

"Fuckers think they can come into my home," He was now throwing his fist through anything he could find and hurling anything that wasn't bolted on the floor.

"Kill my crew!" After a moment he settled, flopping down on the only remaining piece of furniture that remained untouched from his fit of rage. He was slumped over, taking deep and desperate breathes; blood trickling from his raw knuckles and various cuts along his arms.

Johnny only remained deathly still throughout, spectating his leader's outburst considering he was a man of few words and never showed emotion, only speaking with his usual monotone.

A reassuring hand on his shoulder withdrew Vincent from his revere, he peered up at the large man as if now comprehending his presence. Catching his breath, Vincent stood nodding to his comrade in a silent apology before looking toward the window, the occupants downstairs were huddled together stunned by the display they had witnessed.

Making his way down the grand staircase, Vincent swam through the sea of bodies until jumping up on the bar at the far end, smashing the boom box blaring rhythmic lyrics with his foot, silencing the room.

"Alright, listen up!" He declared in an authoritative tone suppressing the quiet murmurs among the crowd as they craned their heads up in his direction.

"We've got a lot of shit to discuss-especially about the assholes that came knocking at our door,"

"Killed our family," He added, pointing a finger at the corpses hidden underneath the pale quilts.

"Spilled our blood, on our turf" The crowd began to get riled up, some shouting angry slurs and others having a look of blood lust cast across their features.

"They came into our home, disrespected us" His voice was raising with every word he spat as he opened his arms wide gesturing all around.

"And I know for a fact we ain't the kind of motherfuckers to back down!" The crowd roared back in retort, Vincent used their adrenaline to their advantage as he ripped a machete that was wedged into the molding of the bar and held his high above his head.

"We're the kind of motherfuckers that when we wake up in the morning, and our feet hit the ground the devil himself says 'Oh shit, they're up'!" A few dark laughs escaped from some of the men and women.

"We're gonna crush them like the cockroaches they are, no matter where they hide we will hunt them down!" He chopped at the air with the glistening blade as the crowd released a blood curdling war cry, all raising their fists and weapons in response.

"Let's get this shit started."

A lone, thin man wearing a tattered green shirt and dirty khaki cargo shorts dragged himself across the ground, grunting in effort and pain as he clawed and pulled himself along the gravel road. He continued on for a good while before he was met with a pair of tan boots, leading up across denim clad legs to a tall figure wielding a shiny revolver in one hand and in the other a deep crimson blade still releasing droplets of the dark liquid.

The young man's eyes widened to the size of saucers as he attempted to escape, gathering enough strength to stand on wobbly legs and hobble away at a stable pace. Nearing the end of dank alleyway leading to a few more men and women clad in similar garb to his fighting an unseen enemy he tumbled to the ground as two rounds erupted through his legs, causing him to collapse under his own weight.

He cried out in agony as the figure strolled over in a patient pace and put pressure onto his shattered kneecap. The smaller man blinked away his salty tears until the haziness retreated enough so that he could see before weakly calling out to his comrades, whom instead of aiding him were torn apart in a hail of gunfire from what seemed like an entire garrison of assault rifle wielding assailants.

Looking away once the survivors of the onslaught were silenced with a single shot to the temple, he peered up at the tall silhouette now dragging him by the collar of his shirt into the open, bypassing the fresh corpses still twitching involuntarily.

As the young man's vision cleared, he was able to make out the figure he had cornered in an abandoned parking lot with a few other carloads of Samedi behind him, seemingly having the advantage until they were all cut down both literally and metaphorically.

He stiffened as the blade of the Vincent's machete was pressed up against his throat, forcing his head onto the plum car he was splayed out onto, his limbs held in place by the gang leader's men.

"Now, I'm gonna ask you one time, and one time only" He growled into his ear, sending shivers down his spine by the venom laced in his words.

"Who ordered the siege on my crib?"

The young man shook his head fervently, fear filling his eyes not only of the man with a razor-sharp blade hovering centimeters above his jugular vein, but for also for whom had taken the throne after The General's death.

"Last chance,"

He sighed as the young man only shook his head again. Raising his hand he held the machete he slashed at his torso, opening a large gash exposing the flesh and tendons beneath the skin.

The young man screamed at the top of his lungs as the blade was brought down again and again until his body was a mess of deep lacerations all bleeding profusely.

"Lady Calypso!" He finally cried, squirming around as tears streamed down his cheeks.

"Lady Calypso..." He said again, defeated and ashamed.

"Voodoo black magic queen herself," Johnny spoke, pushing up his tinted glasses to the bridge of his nose.

"She in town huh?" He turned to the young man who nodded fast enough to give him whiplash.

"Lady Calypso?" Vincent questioned, turning to his colleague whom had crossed his arm across his chest and stroked his chin in thought.

"Yeah heard a few rumors in prison that the Samedi worship 'er, even The General and Sunshine held her in high regard. It's said she could bring back the dead or some shit."

He replied nonchalantly as if it were a regular daily topic, causing the young man to sit up breaking free of his captors completely caught off guard.

They raised their weapons as he clung onto the Asian man, gripped the collar of his shirt with a death grip.

"Lady Calypso is not to be spoken of in that manner! She hears all! She knows all, she-"

His frantic blubbering was silenced once the blade of Vincent's machete connected with his skull, nearly splitting his head in two before it was ripped out that slashed across his neck slicing his head clean off his shoulders.

"Well, that's one way to end an interrogation..." Johnny mused, casually shrugging off the decapitated body slumped onto him.

"You alright?" Vincent questioned, poking and prodding at the disembodied head with the tip of his blade; after Sunshine, he always made sure they were dead. And the word of a 'Voodoo goddess' did little to ease his anxiety.

"Yeah, fine" He replied in a monotone, striding over to his custom Venom with Vincent in tow. Hopping over the door, Johnny stuffed the keys in the ignition and revved the engine for dramatic effect before peeling out in a cloud of smoke.

"Shit Johnny," Vincent said, groping any surface he could hold onto.

"Who in the hell taught you how to drive?" He added while Johnny tilted his head curiously while swerving out of the way of oncoming traffic.

"Taught myself," He jerked the wheel narrowly missing a large semi-truck barreling toward them.

"Damn good, ain't I?" He grinned, chuckling at his companions' nervousness.

"Always thought I'd go out in a blaze of glory, instead I'm gonna get killed when you wrap this shit around a tree" Was Vincent's reply.

Despite the fear, he still managed a chuckle and turned his vision behind them; an entire fleet of purple cars raced behind them, their occupants laughing and waving their arms in victory.

Vincent returned the gesture, managing to crack the first real smile in a long time.

Passing by a nearby Rim Jobs, Vincent tapped the dashboard a few times to get Johnny's attention gesturing toward the car repair shop. He nodded his head, drifting around a four way intersection before speeding back to the store, the cars following did the same before coming to a stop in the empty parking lot.

Jumping out of his seat, Vincent walked inside speaking to a burly man seated behind the counter, both exchanged a few words before the front metal shutters rose revealing a gloss painted Voxel, complete with the intricate gold inlay similar to their crest.

Johnny whistled as he put a hand on the beautiful machine, relishing at the cool fiber glass beneath his palm.

"Damn fine machine ain't she?" The mechanic stated, wiping his oil stained hands on an equally dirty rag.

"She run as good as she looks?" Johnny questioned and the mechanic nodded as Vincent entered the garage, keys in hand.

"It'll leave your ride in the dust," Vincent added teasingly over his shoulder, slipping into the driver's seat settled on the right side other than the usual American make cars with the controls on the left.

Johnny bristled, looking to his car before turning his attention back to his cocky comrade.

"That baby over there," He pointed to his venom as he leaned over the window on Vincent's opposite. "Ain't never seen a set of tail lights"

Vincent chuckled, pushing in his keys and starting the engine.

"There's a first time for everything" He said over the roar of the engine, shifting into first and joining the recruits in the parking lot, they gathered around as he honked the horn to get their attention.

"You boys and girls ready for a race?" They all looked to each other before their faces shaped into huge grins, all nodding their heads and sprinting to their respective vehicles.

Once they all were positioned head to tail on the barren street on the outskirts of the city, Johnny pulled up next to Vincent, leaning heavily on the door frame.

"Last one to the crib buys drinks tonight?" He offered a wager between them, Vincent stroked his chin in thought before looking back with a half-smile.

"Sound good to me"

After waves of anxious racers taunting each other, they took off in a squeal of tires and black smoke, Vincent quickly took the lead while shifting gears to appease the machinery demanding to be pushed harder.

Johnny sped past the cars struggling to keep up, quickly taking ground until both were tied for first.

Drifting around a corner, the two men fought for dominance neither giving an inch and moving dangerously throughout the now bustling streets filled with the citizens of Stilwater.

Nearing the neighborhood just outside of Purgatory, the two men riding high on adrenaline and custom sports car sped together in succession with the noses of their cars pushing back and forth between each other until a large, red truck came seemingly out of nowhere and T-boned Johnny's Venom.

The force from both vehicles colliding into Vincent's voxel caused the two Saint's vehicles to barrel into each other and collapse into a heap of twisted, burning metal. The plum cars following behind skidded to a halt and their occupants poured out attempting to help their superiors but were met by a swarm of yellow clad figures riding up to them on foreign bikes, wielding sub-machine guns.

In an instant, an entire gunfight broke out on the streets as the men and women of varying colors fought against each other as the totaled wreckage began to be engulfed by flames and the scent of burning flesh wafting through the air...

Drifting in and out of consciousness, Vincent struggled as he pulled himself from the remnants of his newly repaired Voxel, shards of glass digging into his forearms as he pulled his beaten form across the ground until he was a good distance from the flaming masses of metal. Looking across the streets as his crew battled an onslaught of red and yellow clad figures, he spied a trio of unrecognizable silhouettes; two large ones flanking a lithe form with long dreadlocks swaying back and forth as they sprinted in his direction.

One of the men ran past, retrieving another form from the smoldering wreckage of what he believed to be Johnny's Venom, blinking away the stinging tears that threatened to fall before he was met with hazel, green eyes staring into his dark ones immediately recognizing the woman to be Shaundi.

Shaundi hauled him up to his feet and hoisted his large arm over her slender shoulders as they stumbled a safe distance away followed by the other two men carrying the unconscious form of Johnny, whom had blood trickling down his temple and his body marred by various cuts.

Before they could reach the elevator doors to Purgatory, the two men fell to the ground as shotgun rounds tore through their bodies.

The young woman helping Vincent cried out in surprise as they whirled around in time to see the two men fall and a large man stride forward striking Vincent in the head with the butt of his shotgun, before she could attack their pursuer she was grabbed from behind by another large man, looking similar to the first with tattoos decorating his forearms and exposed chest.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, ranked amateurs, and these were the guys Maero wanted to cut a deal with, no wonder he was met with poetic justice."

Dragging the weakly struggling body of Vincent, the large man tossed him to the ground in front a dark-skinned women clad in various jewelry and clothing that could only be described as someone of high power and the air that she emanated only further proved her superiority.

"That will be all Torque, I thank you for your way with words and for disposing of those heathens," She spoke with a deep accent, he emerald eyes shimmering as she laid her eyes on the muscular, tattooed man with short cut hair. He nodded, cocking his shotgun and standing on the sidelines along with the other man restraining Shaundi.

"Guy," She said, turning to a lean, yet athletic Asian man with his long, black hair restrained in a neat ponytail.

"Ensure that our guest heeds my words" Guy nodded, unsheathing his katana and spoke while forcing Vincent onto his knees with his blade pressed against his throat; keeping his head craned up to the woman.

"You may think you are king, but your throne is seated atop a pile of corpses... most being your own." he said to him. Now it was the woman's turn to speak.

"I, am Lady Calypso" She stated, opening her arms and revealing her true form hidden beneath a thick robe. Her body was decorated with words and symbols of a different language on her dark and toned form.

"The almighty goddess of Loa, the one who sent her regards and knocked on your door."

You may have defeated my fair children Sunshine, and the General. But I assure you, I am not someone to be taken lightly..." She moved forward, running her dark painted nail along Vincent's cheek before cupping it in her hands.

"Leave him alone!" Shaundi screamed, struggling at her captor. Lady Calypso jerked her head in the girl's direction, seemingly noting her appearance for the first time. The air shifted and changed and with a force of her hand in the girl direction, she pinned Shaundi against a wall.

"Silence the girl," The man quickly obliged, clamping a hand over Shaundi's mouth, muffling her cries for help, while she was helpless against the wall.

"My, are much more desirable to look at than my other subjects, I may have to keep you for my own...personal uses" Lady Calypso let out an amused giggle as she traced her finger along Vincent's face, causing him to stir slightly.

"Shh, worry not my will be fine, in due time I will call upon your services..." She gripped his chin tightly, looking into his distant eyes before singing a soft tune that made his mind cloud over.

"Until then, I leave you with a righteous kiss, and surely it is me who you will miss..." She leaned in and planted a deep kiss onto Vincent's neck, nearly lasting a few seconds until his eyes shot open and pain erupted from his body.

Lady Calypso strode away, her subordinates following closely behind as they loaded into her Justice and took off before any of the other Saints could see her presence.

Vincent fell to the ground, screaming bloody murder as he clamped a hand over his neck.

"Boss, boss!"

Shaundi cried out as she knelt by his side, after the effects of Calypso wore off, attempting to calm his fit. Once he settled enough so that he wasn't flailing around too much, she slowly removed his hand from his neck, revealing the Voodoo symbol she remembered Sunshine using to conduct his black magic.

Vincent stayed on the ground, staring at his hands; charred flesh and flames licking beneath his skin peeling away. Before the pain could become too intense, he blacked out hearing nothing but distant voices and light fading from his vision.

Author's Note: Oh good, you made it all the way to the end. We are so proud. Man, that is a crazy way to end a chapter isn't it? I know some of you have questions but you're just going to have to wait until the next Saints chapter to possibly get your answers hahaha... Thanks for reading, also special shout out to CertainUncertainty who has been helping me out on various projects, ideas, and other things. You rock girl, don't let no one tell you differently. Go check out the "Planet Saints Loft" in the forums section (it is a starter up forum but with your help we can make it something for everyone). Once again thank you for reading. If you liked the chapter, review it. If you like the story don't forget to follow and favorite so you can get updates on it, and if you need anything else like advice don't for get to hit me up on the forum or in a PM. As always you are appreciated of no one has told you that today, and thank you for time and patience to read.