Angel's Authority

Part One, Chapter One: Julius Little

Based on the Volition Inc.™ game: Saints Row™

PLAYA

Nighttime was the only time I could appreciate the prettiness of Stilwater. In all these gang wars and shootouts, there's not much left to see by day. Especially not in the Barrio, where I was livin'. Even now, one could hear the far-off gunshots and it was in times like these that I always wished to be able to make a change to this city.

I was walkin' down my street, passin' the bridge that led up onto the highway and headed for Tee'n'ay. It was Friday and they had new deliveries of the good shit today.

I tried to ignore the gunshots like usual but it got a little difficult. They felt like comin' closer and closer for some reason. To my left was a group of yellow-dressed black brothers, graffiti-in' a wall with a golden crown. Those were the Vice Kings. One o' the gangs here in Stilwater.

"Yo, nigga! Whatya lookin' at?"

Fuck, they meant me.

"Nothin' bro. I just wanna head over to Tee'n'ay, that's all."

One of them pulled a gun, the one talkin' a knife.

"Well, I don' care 'bout that, nigga."

He was movin' towards me now, pointin' the knife at me, forcin' me to back away. I could hear tires screech and turned to my left, only to see a red oldtimer bein' chased by a blue truck. Los Carnales and the Westside Rollerz, in that order.

"Fuck! It's the Rollerz and Carnales!"

The one with the gun shouted and began shootin' at the vehicles. He even got the Carnales driver right in the head, makin' the car lose control and crash right into the nearest wall, forcin' me to jump outta the way.

The Rollerz returned fire and got outta their truck, attackin' the Vice Kings. I was in the middle of all this, splayed on the ground beneath 'em with the shit scared outta me, unable to even move.

"HEY! THAT'S NOT YOU'RE TURF, ROLLERZ!"

Someone shouted from the opposite direction and both Vice Kings and Rollerz began attacking the strangers. I saw every single one of 'em drop dead one after the other until the last two decided to run for it. I still couldn' move and had to wait for the person to get into my field of sight. It were two.

Another black man, much older than the others, wearin' a beret, purple t-shirt, black jacket and pants and a golden chain. I knew who he was. Julius Little; leader o' the last gang of Stilwater: The 3rd Street Saints. The other was a blonde Charlie Sheen, with a black and purple bowling shirt, jeans and a gun in his hand.

"Hey there fella. Ye don' look like Vice King, Carnale or Roller to me."

I wanted to speak but I couldn't.

"Doesn' matter. I'm Julius Little and this is Troy Bradshaw. We're from the 3rd Street Saints and are lookin' for new recruits. Ya think yer up for it?"

He wants me to join the Saints? The leader himself? This was an opportunity not to be missed. I just nodded, still unable to move anythin', including my tongue.

"Perfect..."

"Julius, do you really think it's a good idea to take in random strangers?"

Troy had a much brighter voice than his boss but it didn' help my words to return either.

"I mean, he managed to live a one-on-one-on-one shootout so o' course, it's a good idea. With a lil' bit o' trainin', he'll be as good as Gat."

"No one is as good as Gat!"

The man called Troy replied, shakin' his head.

"Also true but I believe in him. You managed too, didn' ya? Besides, we really needa gain some man-power Troy. Else, we'll never be able to pull through with our plans..."

Troy complied and helped me up on my feet.

"...Ya have a name, Playa? Doesn' matter anyway. I've got one for ya. Playa sounds nice, doesn' it?"

Playa it is then. Should I ever needa bail from the gang, they won' be able to find me without havin' my real name. I nodded.

"A'ight then. Follow us to meet ya new family."

Julius and Troy led me away from the crime scene, tossin' a grenade over their back to wipe their footprints. The explosion made my ears ring but I guess, I had to get used to it. I was part of the gang now, after all. At least I hoped so...