For all those who are just starting, please bear with me while I slowly trudge my way through the earlier chapters and tune them up.

For all those who are rereading old chapters, then this'll look very unfamiliar to you. Wait, could it be? Yes, I am fixing all the typos and tidied everything up; I'm fixing all the mistakes I did when I was a rookie. If you ever see any more grammar mistakes (I'm British though so there'll be a few), please let me know with a review or even a pm – or just for anything really I loving hearing everyone's thoughts and critiques on this series.

I am probably going to rewrite the first six or seven chapters again in the style of the more recent chapters, maybe add in a few more characterisations and subplots to make things more interesting. Don't worry; the overall plot will stay the same and I'm not taking anything out.

I better add the disclaimer too; I do not own the fictional world of Saints Row, nor its mainstream characters. I only own the Original Characters and the fictional world of Stalicoast.

But be advised; in this trilogy (yep trilogy, not just one story), there's going to be a lot of character deaths, and emotions will always be running high – Once you're emotionally invested, there's no turning back…Enjoy!

"Micah? Micah! You're hogging the ball – that's not fair!" Jenny cried, the three-year old chasing after the older twelve year old in the open field, the twilight of night almost approaching them.

"Nuh-uh! That's winning!" Micah proudly corrected, sprinting with great speed towards the ranch, where he saw his stepfather blocking the goalpost from him. "C'mon Jenny, we've got this!"

He stared down the man with the bushy beard and orange ballcap, took in a deep breath, and kicked the ball towards the gigantic goal-post with great ferocity. The young boy almost slipped on the wet grass but this didn't worry him; this time it was him who was going to get lucky.

"Sorry junior, but I ain't outta the woods yet." The stepfather declared, leaping off the ground for the oncoming football, and wrapped his entire body around it in mid-air and tuck it in deeply around his stomach. Micah couldn't believe how lucky he was.

"Hey – You cheated!" Micah whined, he stomped his cream and violet sneakers on the ground and pulled his cherished white fedora forward in a frowning state. The older man just had to explain to him why he had to win.

"Heh, I always cheat Micah; in this world now, we can make our own rules. We've got a lot of people to thank for that…Troy…Tobias…Every single one of the Third Street Saints. God I miss them all." The stepfather sympathised, he hugged Micah towards him and pretended to nudge his head back and forth with the football, until the younger and sassier child swiped it away from him. They stared at the sunset on the other side of the hill, past the beautiful pearlescent ocean.

Johnny always loved how beautiful and calm the ocean was.

"Kenny! Kids – Dinner's ready!" Ashley announced as she revealed herself on the patio, her hands on her curvy hips and an apron tied across her stomach, pushing up her cleavage slightly. Kenny smiled at her lovingly; how he had not realised straight away how beautiful she was the day they had met still baffled him.

"Come on! I don't want dinner to get cold again while we wait for you two again!" Jenny joked, she was now running ahead of the two young men and joined her stepmother on the patio, then began stomping on the wooden floorboards as her ginger hair frolicked up and down over her freckled face.

She had her father's stubbornness and her mother's temper; what a combination.

"Hey Dad?" Micah asked to his father as they walked up the hill to the patio, the bearded man now looking down at him curiously. "Tell me how you fixed the world; how you saved Stilwater and Steelport? Then stopped World War Three? Oh! And then how did you-"

"Become a well-known badass? You were there to witness it all Micah; you really want me to tell that old story again?"


The two men finally reached the patio and began taking one more look at the night sky, enjoying the peace and prosperity they were now living in, and began remembering the pain and terror of the past; they owed to everyone they had lost to remember.

"Alright Micah, I'll tell the story again when we're having dinner…It all began, with a mad man named Edgar Winslow, who was a soldier that fought in Afghanistan and Iran, was shook up by the whole events, and set out to destroy the governments of the world and set us free. He started his maniacal plan when he kidnapped my best friend in the whole damn world…

Johnny Gat."

Three years prior…

Saints Row: Fourever

These assholes...Have no fucking idea...Who they're messing with...I'm Johnny Gat motherfuckers! Urgh...

Johnny Gat withered his head back left and right and gurgled in agony as his captors poured the petrol over the hanker-chief on his face, his hands and legs tied down to the wooden chair that had been tipped over onto the hard-slate floor of the garage. There was only ever one way to end the torture of someone; either wait for them to break, or break them yourself.

Johnny wasn't going to break. He came too far for that.

"You will submit to us – One way or another!" The first captor snapped, throwing the empty can of petrol away into the corner of the room, then stomping on Johnny's stomach to gain another reaction. "Either you will help us destroy the Saints – Or we will destroy you!"

Johnny began muffling again and raised his fingers upwards from the tips of the wooden arms, signalling that he was finally willing to surrender to these cold-hearted criminals. They pulled up the chair where he forcefully sat, and let the hanker-chief drop off his bloodied bruised face and onto his lap. The two men drew closer to him as the light bulb above them dangled back and forth, the dust dripping onto the strands of their manky mops of hair.

"Here's what I should have said from the start…Eat a dick!"

With great strength, he ripped his arms out of the bindings to the wooden chair, and retaliated by smashing his ferocious fists into their jaws, the sounds of crunching and teeth falling onto the floor only enticing Johnny to keep up the momentum. He grabbed the wooden chair and smashed it against the back of the first man who dared to get up; the second simply cowered and fled to the corner of the room, pissing his field-camo pants, like an animal would.

He looked across the room of the garage, looking for more toys to bring to the fight; the wrench on the builder's table by the house-door was fun enough. With one good hard swing came another, and another, and another, until the blood painted the dirt-ridden garage crimson red.

"That's enough fighting now." A man protested behind Johnny, his raspy rough voice attracting Johnny's attention as he turned to face him. He stood dressed sharply; a tucked long sleeved red shirt with a black tie, along with black braces that brought up his straightened black pants. A black woman and child stood cowering behind him. "You've had your fill of fighting."

"Pal, you can never have your fill of bloodlust. Let me prove that bitch…" Johnny hissed as he began swinging the rusty wrench in the air, drawing closer and closer to the mastermind; the family cried and sobbed more whilst the man stood unfazed by his prisoner.

"Too much naivety and enthusiasm can kill young noble men like you; I've learnt that the hard way. I'll give you credit of containing yourself after all that torture in the chair; I learnt how to perform the ordeal after my trip to Iraq. But enough of all the reminiscing. My name is Edgar Winslow, and you are going to help me destroy the Saints."

"And I want to be able to fly in space, shooting super powers against alien pussies in the name of Earth, but I know that ain't going to happen either." Johnny sneered, as the light bulb finally remained still and unshaken, the gangster finally saw the terrified family in the room, and realised his hostility was causing them alarm. After watching Aisha die so unexpectedly, the image of his own family torn apart just like that always flashed before him whenever he contemplated tearing another apart.

"Very cute. I want you to help me destroy the Saints and the US Government, for honour, vengeance…And liberation. You will help me do all that…Or you will watch the son of Pierce Washington die by my hands." Edgar continued, he turned his back and pushed the brittle starved woman onto the ground and forced his arm against the boy's neck, the sounds of her screams causing an echo in the wide room. "He slept with this stripper seven years ago, and left her in Stilwater when he went off to Japan to film some commercials for that 'ass tasting energy drink'..."

As he grew uneasy at Edgar echoing his own quote about Saints Flow, Johnny simply shrugged it off as he determined in a matter of seconds Edgar truly hadn't heard him say such words about Saints Flow, and must have learnt about this through a secondary source. It would be only a matter of time however, until Johnny learnt his mistake.

"You really expect me to believe that boy is the son of one of my friends? You really are a foolish bitch if you expect me to just care and believe that."

"No…I don't expect you to."


"I expect you to help me, regardless of whether you believe me or not." Edgar snapped, the smoke of his shocking unforeseeable M1911 flowing through the air and the body of the young mother falling bluntly onto the ground, the colossal cracks in her head seeping blood onto the slate. The boy screamed so loud and dearly that his lungs almost gave out. "I know you're feelings and attitude towards families after yours was taken from you. You will help me anyway, because you don't want be responsible for the death of a nine year old boy like this."

"Her death, is all on you Gat...You know I will not kill you, but you will do what I say if you want this boy to live..."

"Touch him, and I will carve a hole in your fucking SKULL! Stay the fuck away from him you psychopath!"

"I'll consider it...But for now, please tell me…" Edgar fished into the other pocket in his suit and brought out a pair of movie tickets.

He held the tickets out to Johnny like an old friend going out with another friend for the first time in decades, but the mother's corpse and the traumatised boy in the background behind the two ruined the idea for Edgar. His pupils dilated with glee and wonder, and his hands shook erratically around the young boy's neck, the veins on his arms throbbing inhumanely. Johnny could only stand and stare at this demon in open hostility and anger; he knew it would only be a matter of time until he would return to the Third Street Saints, and finally fight back against this maniac for kidnapping him.

"So….Do you want to go see a movie?"