Saving The Gangsta

t w e n t y - n i n e

t h i r d  p e r s o n  p o v

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History is history. What's done is done.

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Everybody knew about The Vipers.

The Vipers were invincible. No one touched them. They built an empire in a matter of days, protecting the innocent and slaughtering the brutal. Everyone thought they were different, a superior race perhaps. In the end, they were made of flesh that could be cut and bones that could be broken. They were human, and they could be hurt just like anybody else.

They were the kids that you never could kill, and that remained true until the end. Some died, some lived. Death happened to be a good friend of theirs, but even friends can betray you. That's the thing about Death, he never discriminates. He's selfish, he takes and he takes and he takes. Whether you're a sinner or a saint.

The Princess. The Fighter. The Leader. The Survivor. The Innocent. The Smile. The Warrior. The Best Friend. The Troublemakers. The Mastermind. The Nerd. The Rose. The Confidant. The Soldier. The Traitor. The Tortured. The Defender.

~

"Boss!" A foreign voice called out, quickly studying the rest of the fallen souls for anymore survivors. "He's still alive!"

Brooke Rodriguez walked over to his Second in Command, eyeing him cautiously as he stood over the almost lifeless corpse.

Jude glanced over it again, kneeling down so he could take a better look at the boy. He was covered in crimson red blood, aside from the scattered areas of skin. He knew that a person had been here previous to his gang; He knew a person had cried over this boy.

The youth-like face was still smiling, despite his unconscious state. He was young, no older than 16 at most. Just a kid, like Jude and Brooke.

Brooke's eyes met Jude's almost instinctively. They knew they had to help him. Viper or not, he was still a human being and that was all that mattered.

~

A hooded figure stood to the sidelines, watching darkly as the figure fought in the ring. Street fights weren't supposed to be safe. They were dangerous, designed for the callous and volatile.

The crowd roared, calling for the fighters blood. The old favorite stood proud in the centre, everybody there knew her opponent didn't stand a chance.

Alexi Clarke was born a winner.

She had changed so much over the past 3 years, Grayson noticed. Realising how wrathful and void her eyes had become. She was alone, having lost all of her family.

He still remembered that day, as if it had just happened.

They had fought and they had fell, like rose petals lingering with a poison.

He remembered how his Princess had cried over his body, proclaiming her love.

He wanted to scream, and cry, and shout it back. But he couldn't move. That fucker Rogue had made sure of that, injecting him with that toxin until his breathing had almost stopped completely. He couldn't even open his eyes.

Yet he smiled, just as Xander had said. He smiled until the drug had stopped. He hoped it had brought her some form of comfort; He hoped she knew he never stopped thinking about her.

Of course he knew she wouldn't stay in that damned room and wait for the fight to end. He knew she would fight, the monsters had taken everything from her.

And then they took her life.

Taylor Valentine stared at his sister, standing so elegantly in front of everybody. Would she recognise him? If she saw him now?

The Liberté had saved him. Brooke and Jude had saved him. But when they asked for his name, he didn't know how to reply.

So he recalled one of his last conversations with Astrid.

He had fallen in love with the Princess Ingrid Freya Kensley. And she became Alisa Davies, and then Kristin Halls, Isabelle Johnstone and eventually, Astrid Cleveland.

When they asked him his name, he replied with two words almost foreign to him.

"Grayson Bailey."

~

Dear Alexi Clarke,

Alexi Clarke.

It seems so bizarre to write your name, despite you being my friend for such a long time.

You were my sister, my best friend. 

And I died.

Obviously I didn't stay dead, quite the opposite actually. I'm alive.

I'm alive, and I miss you, and I'm sorry.

All your pain, all your suffering.

It was all my fault.