To the Presidency! (And Beyond!)
It's been a long time since I've wanted to write, longer still that I've wanted to put anything up on FF, but SR4's got me so excited I can't stop myself, so here's a few drabbles of the row.
I imagine the Boss isn't just some mindless sociopath, and actually does reflect on the things she's done. Most of the time it just doesn't bother her. (I own nothing, etc.)
"Shit Boss, you up this late again?"
The "Boss", notorious leader of the Third Street Saints, and now, oddly enough, President of the United States, turned her head slightly at the sound of Pierce's voice, "Fuck's it to you?"
"Because," he started, moving closer to her, "Not only am I your right hand man, I'm the motherfuckin' Communications Director of these United States, and you got two meetings and a press conference later this morning, Madame President."
Drumming her fingers on the arm of the chair she'd dragged out to the balcony, she muttered, "This place needs more window seating."
He was at her back now, "It's the White House, you're the President, and the last thing anyone cares about is balcony seating. Shit, you don't think niggas out there wanna try an' put a bullet in your head? Pshh, Shaundi'd throw a fit if she knew you were up. Small wonder Kinzie ain't told her yet."
Pierce took two steps, turned, perched himself on the balcony railing, and stared at his Boss hard. Normally she'd be sayin shit like "Tough shit" and "I have no right hand man", crackin' jokes n' shit… but this… this was different.
Adjusting to life as the President had to be difficult. Life as a Cabinet Member was more than a handful. All day, every day, every movement and word were being watched and heard. And the paperwork!
Some days Pierce wasn't even sure how they'd gotten themselves into this position in the first place. Maybe it had started off as a joke, who knows?
The fact of the matter was, as a gang leader, the Boss had been able to do whatever she wanted, be whomever she wanted to be (literally and figuratively), as had the rest of the Saints. As President… she actually had to start watching what she was doing, what she was saying, how she was acting, and she wasn't very good at it. He could see the loathing on her face when certain reporters questioned her about touchy subjects, and occasionally the Boss went back to her "fuck it" attitude and jacked a car or two, which caused hell for everybody else.
Some days he almost missed the streets.
"You do know that you say the word, and we'll bounce… right?" he said, leaning forward, "You make the call, and we right behind you Boss."
She sniffed, her shoulders tense. The night was cool, and the weather was pleasant enough for three in the morning. Something familiar about that faraway look in her eye…
"You havin' more nightmares?" he asked softly.
He paused. It wasn't often the Boss would even hint that she was hurting, not even when Gat got blown away, but since they'd settled into the White House, things were a lot less… violent. By comparison to the old days… it was almost… peaceful, though stressful in its own way.
In a calm tone, he asked, "Was it the drowning one or the plane one?"
She shuddered, "Fuck. Pierce it was both. I was drowning in a plane. I know that doesn't make sense, but I dunno shit, maybe the plane was in the ocean? I was tied up and Lin was dead and Eesh was decapitated and Gat… and Carlos. God I don't even know why he was there man. I just see his mangled bloody body and he's suffering and I can't-"
She curled up a bit in her chair, "I couldn't make it stop. They were all dead or dying and I couldn't do a single fuckin thing."
"Now Boss-" Pierce started.
"No!" she barked, rising from her chair, "Don't you fuckin' 'Now Boss' me! They're all dead! It's my fault! That's it! Don't you… don't you fucking patronize me I swear I will put a bullet in your goddamn leg. I am the Boss Pierce! I shoulda been more responsible. That money didn't even need to be there in the first place! Aisha was playing dead and what did I do? What did I do?! I just fucked it up and I got her killed for real right before Gat's goddamn eyes!"
He remembered. He remembered driving her and Gat to the hospital, her vigilance until he was stabilized, and most of all, something she didn't tell Gat about, but he was always sure the other Saint eventually learned of, Pierce remembered the Boss' rampage against the Ronin. She'd gone out in the pouring rain and… and butchered any gangbanger sportin' yellow flags.
"Boss look at us," he said almost pleadingly, "We are not exactly livin' what you'd call a normal life here! Did you honestly think none of us were gonna die? What did you think we was invincible or something?"
"I don't know!" she shouted, "I've seen enough bitch ass punks die on the street Pierce, I've killed enough bitch ass punks on the street to know what happens in the game! But Gat, Gat should be here, Gat shouldn't be dead Pierce!"
She grew quiet, her anger dissipating, her defiant stance deflating somewhat. Slumping back into her chair, she put a hand to her temple and shook her head, "You know, I didn't even think he was dead for the longest time? Not really. I thought about what he said, about the Saints tradin' in their dicks in for pussies, and I thought, well maybe he faked it so he could get out. Maybe he hated us. Hated me. Maybe if I did something, changed something, if it was enough he'd… shit maybe he'd come back. Honestly… I thought that was all better than the alternative."
Pierce let the information sink in. Yeah he'd known Gat was the Boss' best friend. Yeah, he'd known all the shit Gat n' the Boss'd been through. He never thought this though. He never thought the Boss, for all her strength, would tear herself apart like this. And she had never really mourned him while they were busy in Steelport had she? Shaundi had, of course Shaundi had, but the Boss, she made killing Loren priority one, killing Killbane priority two, and taking over Steelport priority three. Hadn't really killed Killbane, and the screaming match The Boss and Shaundi'd gotten into after she let him go… it still freaked him out.
Now that they were in the White House though… now that she actually had time… well it certainly explained a lot.
"You know what the most fucked up thing is though?" she asked, "The most fucked up part is that… Gat's dead… but he doesn't… feel… dead… y'know? It feels like he's still out there somewhere and I just… I gotta find him."
Pierce was tempted to give her a sympathetic look, but that'd only get her riled again. She didn't want to be placated with empty words or piss poor looks. She wanted… needed… to talk. To be heard. To be listened to. She wasn't looking for answers.
She knew there weren't any.
She pouted, "You probly think I'm nuts huh?"
Pierce shrugged, "Not as much as Kinzie and her wild ideas about virtual reality and alien overlords."
She laughed at that.