Angel's Authority

Part Two, Chapter Twenty-Two: A Radiating Tattoo

Based on the Volition Inc.™ game: Saints Row 2™

MAERO

She should have taken that deal. That woman won't even know what hit her. The Brotherhood is the most fear-striking gang in the city for a reason. I am willing to go to lengths that the others don't even dream of. I am Maero and no one talks back to me...

"Ready to finish up the work?"

Matt asked me as I was thinking over the best-possible approach to dealing with the Saints while sitting on the tattoo-chair in his parlor. I had hoped to go to bed with the Saints being friends. But their leader's arrogance had broken that possibility for good.

"Yup."

I grunted in response, laying back and hearing the familiar whirring of the needle. Only the second half of my face wasn't covered yet and I had grown resistant to the pain. For me it was only a slight pinch but that had exactly been my goal. If the needle won't hurt me, nothing will. And the Saints can get some.

None of their leaders had ever been qualified enough to lead them, let alone a gang in general. Julius had not been strict enough and too easy to manipulate, that boy Playa just wasn't mature enough and always headfirst into trouble.

And now this woman? She is the worst of all. Pretends to be an expert but I can see right through her. And that arrogance! If only they would have taken me, they would have had a capable leader and the city would have belonged to the Saints long ago. But they would not offer me even a second of their time... Now the Brotherhood is here to finish what the Saints could never!

I felt the needle hit my skin as Matt began to draw the final piece to the one tattoo that extended all over my body. Literally. In a few hours, I would be complete. A leader fit to rule this city. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the final touches. Jessica had cradled herself beside me in the meantime.

"OUCH!"

I screamed as a sudden and searing pain began to expand over half my face. It felt like my skin was on fire and I moved my hand there out of reflex which proved to be a bad idea...

When I touched it, it hurt even more, beginning to throb agonizingly. As I retracted my hand and looked at it I wasn't even bleeding but was holding pieces of my face in my hand.

"WHAT IS THIS SHIT, MATT?!"

My best friend was looking just as afraid as I secretly felt inside. I moved my eyes to Jessica and she slapped both her hands onto her mouth out of shock. I picked up the mirror from the nearby table and looked at the damage, seeing only half my face.

I was not even sad or in pain anymore, I was furious! Whoever did this will pay for his life and I doubted that my best friend would ever do this. We've known each other since our childhood. And Jessica neither. She was just plain stupid and would never pull it of intellectually. My phone rang.

I violently grabbed it out of Jessica's hand and picked up.

"Who – is – this?"

I pressed between my teeth, looking out of the window to find any hint of someone being here.

"Hey, pretty boy...!"

That woman...

"Hope you like my little present-"

"You will PAY FOR THIS!"

I interrupted her but could only hear her laugh on the other end. When she wasn't seeing me in person, she was bold out of the sudden. Yesterday, she was shitting her pants when even looking at me.

"Oh, I do hope so..."

Her amused tone turned into a serious one within seconds, making her voice coarse and deep. Almost a little intimidating.

"Listen here, you talking baboon: I hope to give you a little more of my wonderful solution here; there's more where that came from. Just know that you should have offered me more than just twenty percent. We could have ruled this city within weeks..."

I heard the line die and the familiar beeping because of it. She was a fool to threaten-

What have we here... I was focusing on a pair of footprints right underneath the window. None of us had left through the front door yesterday and the sand was still wet from the rain in the afternoon, before the woman had come. Their prints would be here still.

The prints underneath the window were normal-sized Converse. I stomped to the door and pulled it open aggressively. Right in front of the door was only a trail of bare feet. Right... She had put off her shoes before that. But then I saw them. The same Converse, almost hidden but still identifiable.

"Carlos Mendoza, you imbecile..."

That is why you should never wear shoes to the beach.