Hey guys, this is just a little AU/spinoff for Smoke in Mirrors. It uses Liz as a character, but it's a pairing that I usually don't ship. Fem!BossxAngel is really good and I don't frequently see it on here. This isn't exactly a direct love story, so if you want that, leave. It's more of an unrequited thing. Just read and enjoy and look for the next chapter of Smoke in Mirrors. PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!

There was only one suitable gym on Carver Island that was potentially up to Liz's standards.

Steelport had fucked the rest of them over with steroids and pretty ladies waiting outside for a sweaty, ripped Luchadore. They all had interiors of stark gray and were filled with worn out machines that were potentially older than her. Not a single woman dared to step inside, which wasn't what was stopping her. It was the attitude, the harsh looks of irritation plastered upon the men's faces, the pimply faced teenager that ran the front desk and constantly asked her if she wanted a permanent membership. It felt like the same kid worked at every place, and each time her desire to punch him in the face increased.

That wasn't what she wanted.

She wanted to find someone better than her that ran a gym; someone with talent and a fighting drive that could take her down and make her scream like a scared little bitch. And if he couldn't do that, having someone that was at least a good fight would entertain her for a couple hours. She'd even pay extra if he was good looking and let her smoke inside. The man that fit that description was Angel de la Muerte. She just didn't know it yet.

Fortunately, this man was her former lieutenant and lived right near her in his own beaten gym.

Carver was the island right next door to her Sunset Park penthouse. It was a fifteen minute drive or a couple minutes away by helicopter, which was the only reason why she would go there to work out. It was the heart of the former Luchadore territory and was dotted with countless places she could visit at her own pleasure. Flashing some skin or a pistol got her anywhere in this town, so price was never a problem. After trying all these places and wielding the same results every time, she confined herself to the penthouse gym. It was satisfactory for a while, but it wasn't what she was looking for.

After the takeover of Steelport, Angel's Gym was the only place she hadn't tried. She had made an appearance there numerous times, but never had she actually trained with the man she had screwed over. She knew that if she even stepped foot in the old, rickety casino-gym that she would be pounded to the floor. It wasn't that she couldn't resist Angel's fighting; it was just that even Liz was capable of feeling a little guilt. If she had been in his shoes, she knew she would have been livid. Killbane was the one man he despised, and without her help getting to him was impossible. She had turned her back on one of her newest lieutenants for the newbie and her number one girl. It had obviously left a bad taste in his mouth, which was why they had only spoken a few times since the Syndicate had been destroyed. Nonetheless, she still felt bad for what she did. Never would she apologize to Angel, but she felt like maybe a proper fight might be in order.

And that's just what Liz was setting out to do: find a new gym and try to let Angel roughen her up a little. If she was lucky, she could find both in the same place. As she drove towards Bridgeport in her steamy red Torch, she couldn't help but think of how far she went back with Angel. She had known him before arriving in Steelport. After the second Stilwater takeover she had a small fling with him in his wrestling heyday. The breakup was mutual and left no scars, but she didn't talk to him until she arrived in her new city. After he had joined the Saints, he had thrown so many things at her when he was training her for Killbane: driving with tigers, driving on a flaming ATV, and committing insurance fraud were only some of the things the seemingly deranged man made her to. It almost felt like he was pushing her to see how far she would go.

Now felt like the time for her to push his buttons as she passed by his gym's expansive parking lot. It wouldn't have been troublesome for her to find a spot; the place was literally closed down. However, she felt obliged to pull her car into the gym's personal garage that was on the side. She knew it wasn't the best idea considering that the only entrance from the garage led into Angel's personal quarters, but it didn't faze her. She slid out of her car and threw her keys into the pocket of her skintight jeans. Her heels clacked as she went up the concrete stairs leading to the gym.

It was time to have some fun with her favorite Luchadore.

A beautiful Latina voice echoed out of the aged speakers of Angel's gym. He looked around; he was completely and utterly alone like he usually was. Today most likely wouldn't be different from any other day. He would train, defrost a frozen pizza, eat, train a bit more and then try to go to sleep. Not defeating Killbane for the second time had begun to give him bouts of insomnia. The glory he had found with the Saints was no more; he was now a nobody in his wasteland again, silently plotting his second attempt at revenge.

Although he demasked his former partner and brought the ultimate shame, the fight wasn't over. He landed a punch in his punching bag as the image of cracking Killbane's neck came into his mind. The sound of each bone in his body disintegrating brought satisfaction to his mind. But alas, those sounds would be only a dream until he was able to locate the man who had ruined his career.

He stood in the middle of his ancient wrestling ring and fought only a fake opponent. It took on many faces, not just Killbane's. Sometimes it was the face of a lone Luchadore, other times it was of a cop.

This time, the face had morphed. He had looked away for a few moments to wipe the sweat accumulating on his forehead. When he looked back, he could see the face of a woman. He couldn't call her beautiful, as that would have been an overstatement. A scarred, muscular body took the place of the punching bag, and through his delusional vision he could see the leader of the Saints standing before him. He reached out and socked her across the face. He could only feel the cloth of the sandy bag, not the softness of her cheeks.

If Killbane was the man who ruined his life, Liz had to be his female counterpart.

She had promised so much for him if he joined the Saints: power, glory, girls, and, most importantly, revenge. He had gotten all of those things, but the one thing that he had truly wanted didn't last for long.

He remembered the adrenaline rushing through his veins as he called her that one last time.

"I can't hold off STAG for long!" he said. "Get your ass over here so we can destroy his plane!"

She never responded after that sentence. He would figure out after the fact that two of her three best girls were being held hostage on Magarac Island at that very same second. If she hadn't gone, they would have been blown to shreds. He couldn't blame her for the rational decision. After all, she was a gang leader. He knew enough about her to know that she really knew what she was doing with the Saints. She had her dopey moments, but if you told her to kick your ass you knew she would do it in an instant.

His fists lunged into her gut, sending the bag down to the ground. By this point he was absolutely seething with emotions. If the real Liz had been there, he would have beaten her down twice as bad. Blood would be pouring out of her full lips and their matching brown eyes would meet with two different expressions. Hers would be pouring out tears of defeat, while his would be filled with total triumph.

He paused for a minute and looked at her "body" on the floor. His eyes slammed shut and opened a few seconds later to see the destroyed punching bag lying limply on the ground.

That's what insomnia would do to a guy like him; visions of people he loved to hate.

People he hated to love.

"Ang, you here?"

His heart stopped for a mere moment. That voice sounded all too familiar.

"What do you want?" he sputtered. He sounded like an upset child waiting for her to show herself. She was right by the west entrance of the building, he could sense it. He knew she had walked in through his room and saw the terrible disarray of his objects. She had probably taken a slice of his pizza and eaten it before opening the pair of double doors leading to the gym. He knew her actions to a T, and beating her this time would be all too easy.

"Look, I know you don't give a fuck, but-"

Her elusive voice began to get stuck in the back of his mind. She was getting closer now.

He bit down on his lip and drew a bit of irony blood. The image of pinning her against the wall flew into his head and a hint of a smile crept onto his face.

It was perfect. Now was the time to make a move.

Without thinking, he sprinted in the direction he had heard her voice. His bare chest was soaked along with his Saints purple track pants. He lunged at the first body he could see, which was indeed the correct target.

"Goddamn it!" she howled. He pushed her back into the closed set of doors from which she entered and let his fingers wrap around her neck.

"Don't you see what you did?" he grumbled. She gasped for air and let her free arms grab her neck, which was now red from his scarred, tan hands. This man was obviously more insane than when she first met him in Steelport. This was his retribution and her apology.

Letting herself go under his control was something she couldn't let happen entirely. Getting out of being strangled was no easy task. She had done it before, but now was going to be totally different. She pressed her rapidly numbing legs up against the metal doors separating her from freedom. Ever so slightly, she pushed her legs up against the door and kicked.

"You robbed me of the one thing I ever wanted!" His voice rose slightly and she grimaced.

Slipping out of his grip would be easy, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Oxygen continued to be cut off to her and she was forced to kick at the door limply until it budged and listen to him speak.

"You could've let me have just one of the things you promised me! You promised me he'd be dead by the time we were done with him! It was supposed to be the both of us reigning over Steelport. Look what happened to me now! You're all alone up top, and I hope you're fucking happy!" His voice had escalated to a yell now, and by the time he finished his sentence Liz had managed enough strength to kick down the door. She grunted and let out a heavy kick, sending the doors open. The two of them stumbled into a wall; the same position they had been in seconds before.

Both his hands had wandered elsewhere; his left one onto her waist and his right up to the wall. She had her pressed against his naked chest in preparation to push him off. It was undoubtedly awkward with the history they had together.

The Boss leaned into him, her voice croaky from the pressure on her neck. She glimpsed into his bloodshot chocolate eyes and smiled.

"That's not how you treat a lady." she purred. He backed off of her and gave her a glare.

"Why would you even come here?" he asked, his glower intensifying. Her expression changed from sultry to absolutely serious.

"I need someplace to train." she said politely. Angel knew where this was going.

"Try another gym, we're closed."

She chuckled.

"We?" she asked. "Who else is in here?"

Angel crossed his arms and made his way back into the main part of the gym. Despite being a total idiot, she had a way with words when she didn't try hard. Most of the time it was because she was drunk, but that wasn't the point.

"I'm done with you being a smartass. Keep up that act and you won't be going back home. If you came here to train, you'd better be ready to do some actual work."

"Oh," she started. "I'm ready."

Within a few seconds, she reached down for the button to her jeans and undid them. After sliding down the zipper, she peeled the sausage casing off and revealed a pair of shorts that were just as tight. She then reached for her shirt and pulled it off ungracefully. After adjusting her halter bra, she looked around.

"You don't expect me to do this in heels, don't you?"

"I got a pair of boots in the back. No guarantee they'll fit you." he answered. She frowned and went into the backroom.

"Then it'll be a challenge…" she mumbled.

And yes, the headcanon that Liz and Angel dated when he was still actively wrestling is true. I haven't exactly introduced in in SiM because the right time hasn't come. Please review if you liked/disliked the story and leave constructive criticism! It's always appreciated!