A/N: Wrote this many months ago, only now felt like polishing it a little to upload. It's still a really fun idea, though.

Anyway, here's a short version of Saints Row, just in case: Saints Row is basically a Role Playing game, you create your character, so the Protagonist can be male or female, they're called 'The Boss' either way. The story usually doesn't take itself seriously (only the first game was a more somber serious gangster game, the others not so much) and the main character is for all intents and purposes a psychopath, he kills and doesn't give a fuck, all he cares about are his 'homies' and the Saints, the gang he's from. Stilwater is the main city they came from, and by the third game, they're in Steelport and are famous celebrities, then by the fourth game, the Protagonist becomes president after stopping a nuke from hitting the US (yeah, don't ask) and then an alien attack happens and the Earth explodes, and then the Protagonist sort of takes over the universe after beating the King Alien (Zinyak). Yeah. It's been a while since I played it, so don't mind any inaccuracies.

A short version of Hetalia, just in case: Silly comedy anime about personified countries. The fandom can make it really dark too, so it's a flexible series.

So, this happens in Saints Row IV - but with no Zinyak as villain, just America, yes, this is a 'villain!America' in a way, but he's justified, so meh.

Saints vs USA

Chapter 1

Boss, the leader of the Saints, grinned as he strolled around his new home, Pierce following right behind.

They went past the tiger longing on a desk, the strippers dancing, the many drunks and partying gangsters intimidating the cowering politicians, and expertly ignored the loud music.

"Well, looks like our renovations were a success." Boss said as soon as they reached the new and improved Oval Office, arms spreading in relief.

"Yeah, ain't that a beauty?" Pierce smirked, taking one of the guns off the wall to inspect it.

Boss threw himself on the chair, feet up and then down on the desk with a loud thump. "Man, did you ever think we would end up here?! The fucking White House! We practically rule the world!" He joked out loud.

He guessed 'good-deeds' did pay off after all. As it turns out, saving the capital from being blown by a nuke really endeared them to the public. Running for president seemed like a given, a fun new height for the Saints to reach. They had ascended from a common street-gang to worldwide celebrities, so leaders of the whole country was just the next step on the ladder.

Now Pierce was his Communications' Director;

Shaundi is the Director of the Secret Service;

Kinzie was his Press Secretary;

King was the new Chief of Staff;

Oleg was his personal Security;

Keith was his Vice-President;

And finally, he, the Boss, was the President of the United States of America.

Pierce laughed. "Damn right, homie." He offered a fist, which the Boss gladly returned as a friendly fistbump. "It's the White Crib now."

They stopped, however, when a loud but muffled sound interrupted them, and looked around when hearing a sound coming from outside. "What's that?" Boss frowned.

"Sounds like a chopper...?"

Right then, someone stumbled inside the room, a suited man who looked very disheveled. "M-Mr. President!" He nearly screeched, but stopped at the door, panting, as if he were running. "Mr. Jones is here! What are we supposed to do about this mess?!"

"Huh?" Boss stood up from his seat. "Who's 'Mr. Jones'?" He asked Pierce, but the man only shrugged. He then looked at the man who was leaning against the door frame. Has this guy ever run a mile in his life? Geez… "Who's this guy? Why does it matter?"

The man blinked. "T-The last president didn't tell you anything…?"

Boss rolled his eyes and ignored him, instead deciding to walk outside and see for himself.

Once he reached the double doors that led to the back yard of the White Crib, he saw a chopper landing, which was rather informal, to land in the garden instead of a helipad somewhere.

Before it even touched the grass, the door opened and someone jumped out with a giddy grin, eyes hidden behind sunglasses. "Whoop! What a dozy, that meeting!" He was a very young man, basically a kid, really, with blond hair, glasses reflecting the light and hiding his eyes. He was tall for his apparent age and seemed physically capable of taking care of himself in a scuffle...

The kid took the glasses off, revealing bright blue eyes that quickly landed on the Saint's boss. They widened, but the smile remained as he tucked his glasses inside his suit jacket. "Yo, you must be my new boss! Sorry I wasn't here for the oath and all, was busy in with the war and a lot of traveling, really had no time." The kid rambled as he shook his hands, while Boss was pretty much frozen for a second.

He wasn't sure why he froze, but shook himself out of the strange stupor. "And who the hell are you?"

"Hm?" The blond blinked. "My last boss didn't tell you? Ah, sorry." He took a step back, hand nudging his chin in thought. "I've been working for the president for a while, helping him out and stuff. I also do a lot of things you do not want to do, like go to a bunch of meetings for international relations to talk about a lot of boring stuff and dealing with the extra paperwork, so trust me, I'm saving you the effort here! I'm also your go-to guy if there's anything about the country that you need to know, or for anything you really don't have the time to do."

Boss hummed in thought. "So, kinda like an assistant?"

He saw the kid's eye twitch, but other than that, there was nothing indicating any hostility. His smile seemed rather forced. "Yeeeash… I guess."

"Great! How about you go buy some more booze then? We're running out. Just buy enough for everyone in here, gotcha?" Boss grinned, slapping the kid on the back, before walking away.

"Huh…?" The kid was frozen on the spot, as if the conversation hadn't gone quite like he expected it to.

Well, not like it matters. But how lucky that he had an assistant to do all the boring shit for him? Life was really good.

2 LONG, LONG YEARS LATER…

The music was great and so was the company.

Boss laughed loudly, two girls hanging on each arm as he felt the need to throw a bottle at the grand screen in front of him when the TV comedian mocked him, the President! "The fucking gal!"

Being drunk was never good for the furniture. Or for people who made fun of him. That guy was definitely losing his damn job, and hey, that was fair.

He wasn't a boring president, that was the point! It was like a non-stop party in the White Crib, that should be enough of a hint!

Still, the drink was kicking in and he felt the need to take a quick wazz, so he stood up. "If you'll excuse me, ladies." They giggled as he hopped past the drunk idiots on the ground, it was late after all… or was it nearly morning? Was that late or early? Either way, it was nighttime and the lights were mostly off.

While going down the hallway, he passed a half-open door and heard a voice.

"I-I'm sorry, yeah, I know, I'll get to that, I know..." He stopped, it sounded pretty anxious. Who was anxious like this in a party-night? He pushed the door with a foot and saw that kid, what's-his-name, pacing from side to side on the phone. "I-I understand that, don't worry, i-it's just a bureaucratic bump, we're working as fast as we can..."

Looking around, Boss could see a lot of papers around, on the desk in at least three messy bundles and quite a few on the ground, as well as lots and lots of Starbucks coffee cups.

The kid's hair was also a mess and his clothes were crumpled and definitely not ironed. Boss grimaced, and then what's-his-name noticed him. "I-I gotta go, don't worry about those trade-deals, we'll get it sorted out." With a click, the phone was thrown back at the mess of papers and the kid turned to him.

Boss raised an eyebrow. "You look busy."

"Oh god, okay, look," The kid started, a hand raised as if trying to stop him from skittering away or something. "I-I know you're having fun and all-"

"Hell yeah, I am! Why are you here? Haven't you had a drink or anything?"

The kid closed his eyes for a second, and Boss could almost see him counting to calm down. "No, look, I get it, being president is awesome." He raised a finger to stop him from vocally agreeing. "But there are a lot of things you were supposed to do, and I've been trying to hold them off for you, but it's been two years-!"

"It's been years already? Wow, time flies, huh?" Boss grinned, leaning on the door frame.

"Y-yeah, years… and you haven't done anything yet…!"

"What do you mean?"

"You're the president! You're supposed to run the country! But you haven't done anything…!"

Oh, right… He actually forgot that being a president is also a job… but… "Wait, aren't you supposed to do the boring stuff?"

The kid stared at him for more than a second. "Wha…? No, I have my job, something you would have to do as well if I wasn't here, but you still have your job! I'm not supposed to do your job!" He raised his voice in exasperation.

Boss really didn't like the tone. "Okay, look, I don't have time for a desk job, how about you just do that part and I do everything else?"

The kid whose name he still didn't know narrowed his eyes. "What 'everything else'?!" He nearly hissed.

"Oh, you know, being awesome and partying and telling people what to do!" With that white grin, he left the kid alone. After a few seconds, he could hear something hitting the wall loudly, but he still needed a bathroom, so he ignored that and move on.

Dude needed to chill out.

ANOTHER 3 MONTHS LATER…

That talk must have been enlightening to that kid, whose name he still didn't know, because wow, after that, things really started to change.

No more complaints, he just saw him running everywhere around the White Crib with a phone and a bunch of papers, sometimes talking to other suited people, but he seemed to be doing his job.

Boss grinned. Apparently, he just needed a little pushing.

"What did you do to that boy?" Benjamin King asked one day as he watched him hand over some forms to a man before running off again, like lightning.

"Hm? Oh, we just had a little talk. I told him exactly what to do, and he stopped complaining! Now I can just relax and bask in the awesomeness of being the president." He leaned back on his seat, the computer in front of him showing some very entertaining gifs of people getting hurt with their own stupidity.

"And here I thought presidents always seemed busy. I had no idea they had a little assistant who could do everything." He sounded a bit skeptic.

"Me neither. Cool, huh?"

"Hm…"

Right then, what's-his-name, the 'Awesome Assistant' ran in. "Oh, hey! I need you to sign some stuff real quick!"

Right when Boss was about to protest, the kid raised a hand.

"Just a few things and I'll get out of your hair! It's legal stuff, needs your signature specifically. Come on, writing is not that difficult!"

Boss rolled his eyes. "Alright, whatever, give it here." There were quite a lot of papers, but the kid only pointed to a few.

"Just sign here, and here, and on this one… and here, yeah, this one and we're done. Yeah, great..." The grin was a constant feature of the brat's face these last few days.

"Why you're so happy all the sudden? Got a girlfriend?"

The kid laughed. "Ahaha, no, it's just that I think I solved our conundrum."

Boss raised an eyebrow, as did King. "Con-undrum...?"

"Oh, it's this thing. It'll make my job easier, and you won't have to worry about anything until the end of your term. In fact, it might even make it easy for you to get reelected, too. If you want. I'm sure it'll raise your approval rating by a long shot."

"Wow, really?!" Boss gaped as he signed the last paper. "How the hell did you manage that?"

"I know it doesn't look like it, but I'm smarter than I look. Politics is my thing!" The grin widened as he quickly collected the papers. "We'll get this processed real quick, and I'll get back to you in a few days." The kid shrugged and ran off again.

Boss leaned back on his seat. "Huh, look at that. Turns out he's really smart. How about we have him join the Saints?"

"Why, pray tell?" King had his eyes on the door, where the kid had left.

"If he's working at the White Crib at his age, and knows so much about politics, he can be really helpful! I have a feeling he would be an awesome lawyer too, in case we get sued again."

"He does seem like a good kid, but I'm not sure he would do well in a shootout."

"Kinzie doesn't do really well in a shootout, either."

"Kinzie is… special. I meant that he looks like a good kid, the type who wouldn't like to see blood… I wouldn't support pulling an innocent young man into this world of ours."

"Oh, come on, I won't make him kill people, it'll be fine!" The kid was just a little tight up. If he loosened up a little, he was pretty sure he would fit right in with the Saints. "Besides, he can't be such a boy-scout if he's working in politics."

.

.

.

"Right, this is the last one and we're done!" The kid leaned back after handing him a few papers, hands behind his back. He's only supposed to sign the first one and things would be settled.

"Well, look at that. See? I told you you would be able to do this job just fine." Boss grinned as he signed it, feeling some relief. He's dealt with enough whiny politicians and dropping approval ratings as it is.

The kid would be a good addition after all. He had this great feeling about him.

Oh, right… he hadn't asked his name yet… "Ah, haha, by the way-" He leaned forward on his desk, while the kid read over the document.

Right then, the doors burst open. "DON'T SIGN IT!" Kinzie came through the door with her laptop under her arm.

Boss' eyes widened. The kid's tight-lipped grin widened as well, as he folded the document and placed it inside his pocket, taking a step away from both of them.

Kinzie gritted her teeth as she glared at him.

"Whoa, Kinzie, what's going on?"

"You signed it, didn't you?! You didn't even read it, did you?!"

"Huh?" He tilted his head. Shaundi and Pierce came running in too, both pointing guns at the kid, who maintained a wide smile as his eyes narrowed.

"Be careful with those toys, okay?" The kid said, not even raising his hands and not showing concern at all.

Boss turned to him with a scowl. "What did you do?" He hissed.

"There's no reason to be angry. Literally nothing has changed for your routine." The kid raised an eyebrow, looking incredibly condescending.

Kinzie pointed at him. "You turned the president into nothing but a figure-head with no power!" Kinzie accused. "Now, I'm guessing you are holding all the power."

Boss' expression changed from a scowl to one of furious disbelief. He really couldn't believe he fell for it. What made him think this brat was trustworthy?! He knows that before this, the idea of betrayal from him didn't even cross his mind! He couldn't understand why!

Why did he trust him so quickly?!

Now it still felt somewhat wrong, because while there was no denying Kinzie, the betrayal from this person who wasn't even his homie stung. So he took steps back and pulled one of the assault rifles from the wall, pointing it at the blond with a growl. "Alright, punk, hand over the document."

The kid crossed his arms. "Why should I?"

"Why?!"

"You were literally doing nothing, for two years. I was the one doing the president's job! And you can continue to be a useless fuckmuncher if you want, but from now on, we'll do things my way!"

"Can't you see we have guns pointed at you?"

Blondie scoffed and laughed. "Go ahead! Shoot me if you can!" His expression was nearly manic as he taunted them. "Although, you shouldn't raise a gun if you ain't ready to shoot!" He suddenly shifted to a southern accent.

He seemed so incredibly sure they wouldn't shoot. Indeed, the Saints might have killed many, many people except children, it wasn't the type they felt okay with killing, however, this wasn't a kid, even though for some reason they felt like he was.

He was practically a grown man, at least 20 years old at most.

But for some reason still, he found it difficult to pull that trigger, the hesitation made his grip shake… The others seemed to be having similar issues…

So Boss lowered his gun, making his homies cast him worried glances. He walked towards the brat, who narrowed his eyes. He had put his trust on this bastard, for some reason, and now he went and betrayed him just like that.

So honestly, it felt much more satisfying when he punched him square on the cheek, making him stagger back, hand resting on the newly received bruise. "I'm done playing around, you brat, so you're going to do as we tell you, or you die. It's simple as that. Oh, and by the way, you're fired."

Those strange blue eyes were wide, not focused on him. "...I almost felt that..."

"What-?" Even before he could finish his sentence, he was suddenly embedded past the wall, his brain slowly trying to process what just happened.

The constricting pain on his stomach told him he was probably punched, but how did he end up flying through a wall…? His arms and legs weren't responding, and he finally noticed that he couldn't feel his body, at all. His eyes were wide as he coughed a warm liquid, probably blood.

"Boss!" He heard someone yell, followed by gunshots, which were interrupted by a yelp. A wide-eyed Pierce was in front of him, trying to get his attention, but he felt stuck.

A hand grabbed Pierce's collar, pulling him back forcefully and he was gone as soon as he came.

Next, he saw Blondie. There was blood covering half of his face, as if someone had whacked him on the head. "...That's how you deliver a punch. Take notes, boyo."

Boss pulled all the strength he could find to push himself up, using his elbows as support. It was difficult to hear what was happening around him, but he could hear the sound of many weapons' safeties clicking off.

"Stop right there!" It was… one of those Secret Service fellows? Shaundi is their boss, so-

Blondie threw a glance behind him. "Oh, good, you guys are here. Could ya'll help the president? He took one hell of a blow."

"Why are you helping him?! Aren't you supposed to protect the president?!" That was Shaundi. Was she okay…?

"No..." Kinzie said, just loud enough for him to barely hear it. "You actually work for him, don't you...?!"

"Well," Blondie turned back and rested a hand on Boss' forehead, pushing him back on the ground again, much to his frustration. "Sorry 'bout that, you were just being really annoying. Maybe we'll have a chat later, but for now, you should rest."

For some reason, this sounded very appealing… His vision slowly blurred, and before he knew it, he was completely out of it.

When he woke up next, he was in his room. He recognized his decoration right away. He blinked at the ceiling.

"Boss!" He twitched, looking to the side, and he saw Shaundi stand from her seat.

As soon as he moved, he felt the pain, and his hands flew to his abdomen, where it felt like it was on fire, and he almost felt like he was about to puke. "Holy shit…" He choked. "What the fuck happened…?!"

Shaundi sighed, hands on her hips. "Maybe I should let Kinzie explain..." Her head tilted to the other side of the bed.

He looked and jumped out of his skin. "Where did you come from?!"

"I was here to whole time." She was on a chair, with her laptop on her lap, as usual, typing away quickly without looking at him. "We found out the whole Secret Service worked for Jones instead."

"Who?"

Kinzie gave him a deadpan look. "The guy who nearly made you puke your own guts out with a punch. Alfred F. Jones is his alias."

"Ah… Alias?"

"I can't find his real name…!" Kinzie grumbled under her breath. "It seems he's just as good at hacking as he is at kicking your ass."

"Hey…!"

"He blocked everything that I could use to find any more information on him. I'm still trying to break through his security."

"Are you kidding me? We'll just have to storm in there, Saints' style, and get rid of him!"

"Yeah… about that..." This time, it was Shaundi who spoke.

Boss turned to her, head tilting as he frowned. "What…?"

"After he punched you through a wall, Pierce and I shot him, but..." She frowned, fingers nudging her lips in thought. "I shot him in the head."

His eyes widened slightly.

"He didn't die."

"Wow, wow, hold on. He didn't die? After being shot in the head?"

Shaundi shook her head. "I'm sure I hit him. Pierce ran to see if you were okay, he must have thought the shot killed him, but it didn't. I shot him two more times. He still didn't die, and he disarmed me. Then my SS agents showed up and held me down." She sat back down on the chair, arms and legs crossed as she glared daggers at the floor. "Traitors."

Boss stared at her in silence, very disbelieving, then turned to Kinzie for confirmation.

She shrugged without looking at him. "It's true, there was blood and everything. I'm trying to figure out what's up with this guy…" She trailed off at the end.

Alright… He's nothing if not adaptable… "Okay, so he doesn't die. How about this: We tie him to some weights and throw him in the ocean or something."

Kinzie scoffed. "Good luck getting that close to him. He already beat you once."

"...I was just caught off guard."

"...Right."

"Where is he now, anyway?"

"Oh, he pretty much took over the White House. Kicked all the Saints and prostitutes out, cut the music, and got everything running like a mad chicken-house, where the politicians are the chickens."

"He's getting rid of everything Saint, then, that son of a bitch…" A thought hit him suddenly. "Hey, how did you find out about what he was doing?" She had warned him, hadn't she? Albeit a little too late…

"I found out by accident. He's been plotting behind your back for a few months now. He had meetings with politicians in secret and convinced them to side with him. He created all the documents necessary to make a legal transfer of power, and he probably knew you wouldn't even read them. He just threw them in front of you, put up an innocent smile, and lied to your face to lower your guard."

Boss gritted his teeth, fists clenching. "That little fucker… That's why he was so smiley all the time."

"You gotta admit, that was really crafty… It helped that you are a total idiot, too."

"Not helping, Kinzie."

She shrugged and went back to typing.

"So, what now?" Shaundi asked.

Boss sighed, letting his muscles relax when he noticed all this yelling and moving was only causing him more pain. That kid could pack a mean punch… "Now we'll find a way to get what he stole from us. There's no way we can let a smart zombie-brat beat the Saints with a fucking piece of paper and a signature."

Shaundi nodded with a small smile. "We better gather everyone, then."

"Who wasn't kicked out yet?"

"The only ones who work here, Oleg, Keith, Pierce, us, and Benjamin. Everyone else was forced out at gunpoint."

"Yeah, we can work with that." Boss nodded, rolling the joints of his arms a bit cautiously.

"We'll call everyone here, then. We have to make some plans at least." She then focused on her phone.

Boss exhaled in annoyance. He would much prefer to go in there and shoot the bastard until he dropped dead – he would drop dead, at some point, he's sure – but he hated to admit, he got his ass kicked.

He didn't even see that attack coming! One second he was fine, the next he was down on the ground.

But either way, zombie-kid chose the wrong people to mess with. No one messes with the Saints.

"Oh, by the way," Kinzie started, digging into her pocket and fishing out a piece of paper, which she handed to him. "Jones asked me to hand you this."

Boss frowned and took the note, opening it and quickly reading over its contents.

Option A: Come talk to me.

Option B: Quit and leave the White House.

Option C: Fucking die.

He growled under his breath, note crumbling in his hand. That little piece of shit will pay for this...

With that in mind, Boss angrily strode up to the Oval Office. Kinzie had explicitly told him to play along.

For now, he would… cooperate – the word itself made him cringe – until Kinzie found a way to break the security code, and then they would have an advantage. She was sure that there would be something in there, that a way to kill this bastard would be hidden in there, so she asked for some time.

He threw the doors open, seeing Jones, the fucking traitor behind the desk, writing something and flipping over papers. He didn't flinch with the sound, but looked up after a second. "Oh, good... You're here." It sounded like he was anything but happy to see him. "I was hoping you would pick Option B. Or C. That worked too."

"Did you think I was going to give up like that?" Boss approached the desk, stopping himself from immediately trying to strangle Jones.

"One can dream." He had an infuriatingly calm tone. "You know, when I found out you were running for president, I thought very hard about going home and stopping you."

Boss narrowed his eyes. "Did you now?" Don't punch him again, he told himself.

"Yeah, I was really thankful about what you guys did, saving my city from that bomb, but before that, I've always sort of hated you, ever since you and the Saints ascended from Stilwater and gained fame in Steelport. Nothing but a bunch of criminals turning into celebrities…" The grin was gone, replaced with a scowl. "The effect you had on the culture of those cities spread like a goddamn virus."

"Oh, so you have that goody-law-abiding citizen mentality. How nice. And here I thought you would fit in with us."

The scowl deepened, as if insulted. Good. Jones stood up from his seat, hands on the desk as he leaned forward. "Many innocents died because of you and your posse, and I promise you, one day, I'll find a way to make you pay… If I don't kill you before that."

Taking the challenge, Boss did the same, glaring eye to eye. "Uh, yeah, didn't I stop a fucking nuke?"

"Well yeah, it's the reason why you're not dead yet. I thought maybe you had changed for the better. If you were running for president, I thought maybe you wanted to help my country, so why not give you a chance? But turns out, you're still nothing but a psychopath and a danger to my great society."

"I gotta tell you, you seem like an idealistic brat who has no idea what this 'great society' does to people. Ever stepped out of your ivory tower?"

Jones' eyes narrowed, and the grin slowly slipped back. "It's funny because you have no idea who you're talking to."

"Why don't you enlighten me, then, wonder-boy?"

Jones leaned back, still looking much too smug for his liking. "I've seen the worst and the best of this country and its people, they're all very special to me-"

"Aren't you patriotic?"

The grin was gone again. "I tried to help you, I was hoping you would have done something, at the very least. But I realized that if I didn't do anything myself, the damage would take decades to fix. So now, you're a figure-head." Jones leaned back, hands on his pockets as he walked around the desk. "You have no power, however, you're still the president. People expect you act like it."

"So what? Now you expect me to parade around like a trained dog for you?" Boss clenched his fists, widening his stance. It was getting more and more difficult to hold himself back.

Jones wasn't impressed. "I expect you… to go out there and apologize for your behavior. You're going to tell the Press that from now on, you'll do your job and work for the well-being of this Nation. After that, you can go and doze off until I need you for a public appearance again." Jones nodded to himself, looking around the room, a strange look Boss couldn't decipher on his face. "I might have to turn this office into a simple room for public announcements to broadcast on TV, which is sad to me… but I guess I have no choice…"

Boss felt a hesitant and anxious grin on his face. "So you just want a pretty face for the public? Why don't you run for president?"

Jones scoffed, head lowering. "I can't be a president. Sooner or later, people would start to wonder why I still look so young after four or eight years…"

Boss frowned. "So what Shaundi told me was true…"

"Yeah, I'm a bit older than I look…" Jones ran a hand across the desk, sighing. "So many great men sat behind this desk, but thanks to you, I don't need to hope for competent leaders to show up. I just need a 'pretty face' who can speak clearly."

"And people say I'm the megalomaniac… Okay, now you're the supreme leader behind the curtains, you think you'll be able to keep this up forever? That no one will blab about it?"

"Oh, I don't have to worry about that. You can't prove that there's anyone behind the curtains, you can't prove that I exist, just as you won't admit that you stupidly signed away your power. But still, in the end, words are worthless here."

"How about a few lead shots to the head then?"

Jones frowned at him. "If I hear that you were threatening people, I'll force you to take Option C, and your friends, along with the rest of the Saints, will go straight to jail, for life."

"Oh, I want to see you try… How about we have a one on one, I'm ready this time."

"Don't underestimate me, Boss. You have no idea what I'm capable of."

"Eh, you sure sound confident." This guy is a politician, right? There's no way he could handle the real heat… He could fight, and had a weird amount of strength for someone his size… But he could take him, he just needed to be careful and wear him down.

"You're running out of threats. If you had paid attention, you would know that I've been serving in the military for years, and I've killed many people in the past. Believe me, I've been doing this longer that you've lived." Jones sat on the desk, an asserting gleam in his eyes. "Now run along, boy. I got work to do."

Annoying, smug bastard… Boss swore he would find a way to kill him… one day. Boss readied himself for a fight, widening his stance. This time, he's ready.

Jones rolled his eyes, taking his glasses off and placing it inside his open suit. "Alright then. This time, I'll make sure you understand the difference between us… I'll also go easy on you, so don't worry." The last line was accompanied by a smirk as he stood up and adjusted his stance as well.

.

"…You did what again?" Keith asked with a grimace, leaning closer from his seat.

Boss continued to glare at the wall from his seat at the head of the long table, hand holding a bag of ice resting on his throbbing head, other hand tapping the wooden surface methodically. It seems he hit his head, and some of the fight was a bit blurred in his mind, but he still remembers it being fucking humiliating.

He's sure he was grabbed by the ankle at some point – courtesy of a careless kick – and after that, it was just hit the wall, hit the floor, hit the furniture, hit the ceiling… He also remembers having a hard time hitting that guy, he was fast as hell and his counter-attacks were just as efficient.

"I fought him again." He growled.

"We can see that." Pierce droned from his seat to his left. "The better question would be why."

"If I had any doubts before, now it's fucking confirmed, that thing can't be human…!"

"Maybe he's an alien." Kinzie piped in from her seat in the middle, where she was still continuously typing on her laptop.

King simply didn't bother with that affirmation, preferring to sigh with tired impatience, while Keith scoffed, frowning. "Yeah right. So what's the plan now?" He seemed thoughtful.

"Well…" Boss frowned and lowered the ice bag from his head, his lips pursing as he looked over at Kinzie. "Any luck there, Kinzie?"

"Can't talk now."

"Oh, okay." He shrugged. "So, one option is to bomb the hell out of this place and that guy until he dies. How about that?"

Keith recoiled from him. "Bomb the White House?!"

"Overkill…?" Pierce wondered.

King raised a hand. "That would make us enemies of the whole country. That's a terrible idea, Sir."

"What else can we do?! The guy doesn't die from being shot in the fucking head!"

"We should wait for Kinzie to figure it out." "Wait for Kinzie." Both King and Keith replied.

Boss stood abruptly. "She's taking too long! That shit-for-brains wants me to publicly apologize! And also to be his little puppet as he rules everything! He needs to be taken down, so I can be a real president again!"

Right then, the door opened, and Oleg leaned down a little to fit past the door. Boss wasted no time. "Oleg, we need some big guns!"

He made a funny face, as if both confused and cautious. "What for?"

"We have a siege to conduct! Where's Shaundi, anyway?! We need all hands on board!"

"Wait, wait!" Pierce pushed him back on his seat. "Let's not go crazy yet! Shaundi is having a talk with the SS to figure out what's going on in their ranks, we're blind in here for now."

Keith nodded at that. "And we barely know who this guy is, much less what he is! At the very least, let's not waste ammo with something that might lead us nowhere."

Oleg shook his head. "They're both right. Fighting might not the way to go this time."

Boss raised an eyebrow. "Why do you say that?"

"I have confronted Mr. Jones over this issue." He crossed his arms.

"Did you kick his ass?"

"I was ready to try, however, he did not wish to have an unnecessary brawl, so we settled for a conversation."

Boss threw his hand up in exasperation, groaning in annoyance. "But I tried to talk to him and he just wouldn't listen!"

"That is because you were using the wrong words. Listen to what I understood with our conversation."

Boss sighed, leaning back on his seat and crossing his arms. "Alright, shoot."

Oleg nodded. "According to Mr. Jones, he attempted to talk to you, several times, about things you needed to do as a president, correct?"

"Well, he was mostly just repeating stuff and pissing me off by telling me what to do every time we met."

Oleg nodded, this time more in understanding. Boss had a feeling that he wasn't sympathetic to him. "Mr. Jones has been working for our government for a long time, he cares deeply about this country and he is very patriotic."

"...Tell me about it..."

"He does not like that you have killed many Americans and he does not like that you were once a criminal. He thinks you are an enormous threat to the well-being of this country."

Keith tried to suppress a grimace. "Well… I can't blame him there…"

Boss ignored that. "But what the hell, didn't I stop a fucking nuke from hitting this place?! What do I have to do?!"

"That is the point, Boss. He has worked as your assistant and did most of your job for as long as he could out of gratitude. However, you seem to have crossed some sort of line at some point, and you have convinced Mr. Jones that you do not care about this country, as was just here for the sake of your own ego."

Boss tilted his head. "Now you make me sound like an asshole…"

"That's because you are." Came Kinzie's distracted response.

King raised an eyebrow with a deadpan look. "This makes me wonder if this is actually your fault, Sir."

Boss huffed. "Hey, I do care about the US, it's the only place awesome enough for the Saints! Have you ever imagined us anywhere else?"

Pierce seemed to actually stop and think for a second. "Nah, the Saints only fit here."

"Mr. Jones does not believe you care at all. The Secret Service and the Military are under his command, therefore, I believe gathering the Saints to overthrow him would be futile. Even more so now that I know he cannot die easily."

"What do we do then? We can't just give up, like a bunch of pussies!"

"I believe you should get Mr. Jones to trust you again."

"I'm not going to apologize to that asshole."

"He most likely would not accept any apologies, he does not strike me as a forgiving man. You should simply show him that you are not who he thinks you are."

Boss stared at him for a good five seconds before he snapped. "But he thinks I'm a psychopathic murderer!"

"Which you are..." Keith mumbled.

"Exactly!"

Oleg merely shrugged.

King interrupted. "You can also wait for Kinzie to find something, then we can try to outsmart him and find a way to get your power as a president back without making too much of a mess."

"Or we wait for her to find a way to kill him." Pierce pinched in.

"It goes back to waiting for Kinzie, then..." Boss rolled his eyes, sagging on his seat.

"Ah!" They heard her. "Damn it!"

"What, what! Did you find something?!" Boss stood up from his seat and approached her.

"I got in, but the system kicked me out again…!"

Boss rubbed his head with both hands. "You gotta be fu-"

"I managed to get quite a few things with me, though."

"Please tell me it's anything useful..."

"Maybe, maybe not." She was quiet for a few seconds before she raised an eyebrow. "Wow... he's around 380 years old!"

"What?!" Boss looked closer.

Kinzie continued reading. "Yeah, it seems I just got basic info… Born in Massachusetts, Boston, has a twin living in Canada, a father in England, no mother, younger brothers in Australia and New Zealand, uncles in Scotland, Ireland, Wales… I would say most of his family has lived just as long, if not longer than him."

Oleg was right behind them. "That is fascinating..." He sounded very interested.

Keith approached the computer as well. "Do you think they're all like Jones? Or that they would come to his aid, should he ask?"

Pierce shoved himself in the middle of the group to see it too. "We can't ignore the possibility. A whole bunch of super-people after your ass is no joke."

Kinzie continued. "More ties to many other individuals all over the world… Arabic allies, Asian and African business-partners, bunch of Nordic and Latin-American friends…"

King, being taller than most of them, just stood behind. "Yes, killing him sounds like an ill-advised idea. You don't kill people with this many powerful and rich friends."

"…I'm sure we can take them…" Boss thought he sounded pathetic even to his own ears.

"I have a feeling they all hold some kind of connection to their respective governments, I don't think the Saints can take on all of them, even if we somehow managed to take on the entire American military." Kinzie nodded at her own logic, quickly typing more stuff on the laptop. "Now, could you all back off?" She hissed.

They all did so in a heartbeat.

Boss frowned, then after a few seconds of looking around his homies, he raised an eyebrow. "…Okay… What now…?"

They all stared at each other, collectively shrugging.

Boss groaned and slapped his hands on his face. Then something clicked and he snapped his fingers. "Oh! Enemies! Does he have enemies?!" He grinned at Kinzie.

She turned to him and narrowed her eyes, then turned to her computer. "Well… He doesn't seem to have any proclaimed enemies, but… a Russian by the name of Ivan Braginski stands out. I'll go on a limb here and guess that it is Cold War related. Jones seems to have stuck with this country since its founding; I don't think it's far-fetched to say most of its diplomacy history and his record match."

Everyone in the room looked back at their Boss, who nudged his chin in thought. "You'd think that an asshole like him would have more than one guy who hates him…"

Pierce stepped forward. "Maybe there are more, and Kinzie just didn't get that out of the server. This man could be a lead to more information, though."

Keith crossed his arms. "Great plan, but how do we reach him without Jones noticing?"

Boss sighed in exasperation. He hated all this planning and thinking and shit. He just wanted to run in, guns blazing and all.

Then, brash knocking startled the whole room.

The door was pushed open with a bang, the unpleasant smirk on Jones' face immediately making the Saint tense up. "Yo." He greeted.

"The hell do you want in this room?" Boss asked, cutting any pleasantries short.

Jones recoiled, although he still seemed amused. "Rude." He pointed at Oleg with a thumb. "Why can't you be more like him? He was fucking polite." Oleg shifted uncomfortably.

Jones didn't seem the least bit worried about being in a room full of Saints.

"Cunt." Was Boss' solemn reply.

Unfazed, Jones shrugged. "Okay, so, here's the deal, Mr. President. There's this Meeting scheduled for this weekend…" He seemed to hesitate for a second, eyes wandering away from him.

Boss clenched his fists in a freakish need to control himself, least he tries to punch the bastard again. "I'm not going to a stupid meeting with you. Just do it yourself, since you insist on being the top dog." He snarked.

Jones rolled his eyes, grin widening. "Oh, but this is not just any meeting, Sir." Arrogant prick…! "It's the Meeting. With capital M. Leaders from all over the world, as well as their, eh… assistants."

Kinzie's eyes briefly darted to her computer before focusing on Jones. "By assistants, you mean people like you?"

"Hm?" Jones turned to her. "Oh, yeah, pretty much. Unfortunately, I'm not an assistant anymore, but whose fault is that?" He mumbled the last few words, and continued before Boss could reply. "Either way, we can't afford to skip that, people will be asking too many questions. So both of us are attending and you" He turned to the leader of the Saints with a scowl. "won't be causing a scene that could cost us money and trust."

Boss sat on his chair, throwing a scowl right back. "And what do I get out of it, anyway?"

Jones didn't miss a beat. "More freedom." He smiled amicably again. "If you don't fuck up, I'll… distrust you a bit less. The more I trust you, the more freedom of choice and movement you'll have, but until then, you'll do as I say." He crossed his arms and stood straight, almost daring anyone to question him.

Boss glared at the man, then glanced at his homies, all looked rather reluctant. Damn… what choice did he have, other than getting killed or thrown in prison? A look at Pierce's annoyed resignation reflected his own feelings.

He had to cooperate, for now. "Alright, Zombie-kid." He directed a harsher glare at Jones. "Let's get this over with."

"Yes, let's!" Jones laughed, but stopped quickly, grinning menacingly. "But don't ever call me that again, you fucking brat, or I'll break your goddamn bones." He turned to leave, but stopped at the doorway. "By the way," He turned to Kinzie. "if you hack into my stuff again, you'll never touch another computer in your life, girlie."

The door was closed harshly, the walls seemed to shake. For a few seconds, no one spoke. "Well…" Kinzie began, a hint of sarcasm in her tone. "He seems… just as pleasant as I had first imagined."

Pierce sighed as he relaxed from his previous terse posture.

Keith ruffled his hair as he paced.

King crossed his arms in disapproval.

Kinzie tapped her computer in thought.

Oleg stared at the door pensively.

Boss growled. "Stealing my presidency, threatening my friends, mocking the Saints…" His fingers intertwined as he leaned forward with his elbows on the table. "He's definitely going down, one way or another…"

A/N: I just never seen this idea before, so I wrote something a while ago. Decided to post this, although I'm not sure I'll finish it, I guess it depends on the response.

We'll see.