Ok! Last Chapter it is. The SR2-3 part of my fic just sort of keeps getting longer and longer and... yeah. I'm just gonna put it onto a sequel. When I publich the new story I'll throw in the link here.

SPEAKING OF LINKS, I've got some fiarly nice comic pages for the fanfic, so feel free to check them out!

shadow000angel. deviantart. com/gallery/#/d4ma8g7

Stillwater was ours.

The Vice Kings, Carnales and Rollerz were just like Julius said, nothing more than a memory. The Saints patrolled the streets, owning every inch of that city, ruling the underworld. Stillwater was eerily peaceful now, without gangs fighting each other for supremacy. Stillwater was a kingdom of vice, and I was the Queen, Julius' right hand girl.

It hadn't been an easy year. Johnny and I had ripped through the VK quickly, fuelled by personal vendettas. But conquering the northern island had a surprising result.

I'd knocked Tanya off the throne and found myself in her place as the authority on all the tail being sold in the city – a little unexpected, but considering how instinctively protective I was of the women, few pimps managed to get started in this city without my OK. I'd seen those assholes, collecting and selling women, getting them hooked on drugs, smacking them around and taking all the money they earned. Not now. The brothels and strip clubs thrived under my jurisdiction and the girls were kept safe. Any opposition was quickly put to the ground.

Then the Rollerz, and Lin… I still felt something inside me ache when I thought of Lin. I'd never admit it to the others, but I since that night I often had nightmares about drowning, or an undead Lin walking out of the water.

The Rollerz hadn't ever been a priority for me; I simply answered the call whenever Lin asked. Until Sharp had killed her and suddenly I was in charge of finishing them off. Like the VK, the Rollerz fell, and the Saints held the majority of the city. For the first time I was really experiencing wealth and power, and I liked it. I thought back to my childhood, pondered on what teachers said about me, that it didn't matter what career or path I took in life, I'd succeed because I was naturally ambitious. Not competitive, but (and I always gave a wry smile when I thought on this comment) that I "had a killer instinct!"

One year ago, I'd have said they were dead wrong. One year ago I had slipped far into hopelessness and forgotten who I really was, but now I felt… fulfilled. Sure, I was a career criminal, but dammit if I wasn't the best.

And I only had the Carnales left.

Their corner was drugs, and more than a few of the lieutenants were ambivalent about getting into that trade. Julius reasoned that there would always be drugs being pushed, and if the industry was under our control we could at least regulate it, like I had with my whores. Besides that, the Carnales were getting concerned about the Saints sudden eruption into power and were pushing back against us. So I did what Julius asked, went to Dex and worked to bring them down. With the power we had massed from the rest of the city, it wasn't hard to overwhelm the oldest crime family in Stillwater.

And then, it ended. The Saints ruled, to the point where even the cops were inclined to occasionally turn a blind eye to us.

However, the politicians didn't.

Julius had been arrested, or more accurately, captured. And Hughes, that asshole running for mayor, had us dancing on a string to get him back.

Not anymore. We'd taken out Marshall Winslow for him but he hadn't given us Julius back – so rather than keep playing his game, Gat formulated a plan to take out his Chief of Police. The Saints were no one's bitches, a message Hughes seemed to have gotten – he'd summoned me to a party on his yacht to 'talk'. It screamed trap, but I didn't care. I would get Julius back, and force that asshole Hughes to understand who he was dealing with.

I'd never liked boats. The fact that this little reception was taking place on one made me uneasy – boats were like planes, very difficult to escape from. At least with a plane you could strap a parachute to your back but boats? I gave an involuntary shudder as I stepped down the dock, boots clacking over the wood. They were low heel – if I had to run, I didn't want to be hindered. Still, I'd done my best to look presentable – Aisha's recommendation. Like it or not, you're better off looking a million bucks if you want certain people to take you seriously. My hair was finally long enough to be styled – shaped into a trendy, shaggy bob and dyed blue black from my natural deep brown. My top was neatly fitted and elegant and I wore my one pair of fitted jeans that weren't torn or sporting spray paint or bloodstains. I exhaled as I approached the yacht. 'Do it for Julius,' I thought, 'You need to do this to get him free.'

At the end of the small bridge from dock to deck a burly looking bodyguard stood, bobbing with the boat. I walked slowly up the incline and onto the deck – he swept out an arm towards the bow.

"This way, miss,"

Miss? Seriously? I cocked an eyebrow at him and followed his indication around to the front of the yacht. Standing there in the cold moonlight was a portly man in a pinstriped suit. He had a face like a squashed frog and his hair was thinning on top. I felt something queasy slip into my stomach and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Danger, my instincts whispered. I tried to shake it off.

"Your guest is here, Mr Hughes," A guard said. Hughes turned to smile at me, swirling a glass in his hand. I felt my eye twitch – champagne in a wine glass? That shouldn't have annoyed me as much as it did.

"Thanks Steven. If you don't mind, could you wait outside?" he said. I resisted the urge to point out that we were outside. There was a beat as I listened to the retreating steps of the guard. He didn't go far though – close enough to be there in case (I assume) I tried to pull anything.

"I'm Richard Hughes. And it is a pleasure to meet the woman who handed me the election." He announced with much grandeur, reaching a hand to shake mine. I felt my nose crinkle and folded my arms – I was no smarmy politician, there would be no pretences here. Hughes waved his hand and smiled, skipping easily over the implied insult.

"No need to be modest, I'm serious." He continued, "There's no way I could've beaten Marshall Winslow, God rest his soul. But you made the impossible happen, and for that, I can't thank you enough."

I felt my lips purse and refused to dignify this slime ball with a response. He was sincere, but that made me uneasy. My threat level rose when he began explaining his plan now that he held office. It took me a moment to fully comprehend what he had intended to do – property in the Row was cheap, with decent investment he wanted to create something new. The scene swam through my mind – he'd buy out all the land in the Row, raise the rent on all the property, force the people out of their homes and businesses, and then level the neighbourhood. The poor from an entire quadrant of the city, forced out with nowhere to go.

Not just any people, my people. My gang, my Row. This revival plan was not made with the intention of helping anyone. And thanks to me, this asshole was now in a position to make it all happen. His voice shook me from my riviere.

"Before, I was just displacing poor people, but thanks to you, I'm destroying a hotbed of gang activity."

I felt my hands ball up into fists. He continued.

"As you get older, you realise there are only two types of people in this world. Race, money, gender, none of this matters. At the end of the day, you're either a winner, or a loser. The sad truth of this situation is that for me to be a winner, I have to level your neighbourhood, and salt the earth."

'Not if I have anything to do with it.'

My heart was starting to hammer in my chest. How would I do this? I could shoot him, but his goons would be on me like white on rice. Stab him? Nice and quiet but I'd have to get close enough without him being suspicious, make it quick so I could make my getaway. Stupid boats. Unless I managed to take out his bodyguards as well but as it turned out there were far more than I had expected – not just Steven. More of them were beginning to file in around me.

I blinked and noticed the man I intended to kill was still yammering away.

"Now, I suppose I could try to pay you off, but what's the point? You'd just say no, or in your case, stand there looking intimidating and we'd be right back to where we started." First sensible thing he'd said since I stepped on this damn yacht. "So I'd figured I cut the middle man and get to the point."

I narrowed my eyes – I was done with this douche bag, I was unimpressed, and my temper had just about reached the end of its tether.

"Good idea." I said loudly to interrupt him; there was a flash in his previously placid eyes. "So could you hurry this up? I wanna go to Freckle Bitches."

I wasn't feeling as cavalier as I sounded. My fingers were itching to grab my knife and gun, but the ten or so bodyguards standing behind me, armed to the teeth, had me torn between fight or flight.

"You're going to die here miss." Hughes said darkly. I felt my mouth pull into a grimace – he was no different to Benjamin King or Sharp or the Lopez brothers. "Make no mistake about that. But if it makes it any easier on you, I'll be sure to thank you in my acceptance speech. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a party to atte-"

Everyone's head snapped around at the sudden beeping. I knew that beeping. I'd heard it before. Time suddenly slowed around us.

A bomb. I felt my blood run cold and my feet move. It was the same warning beeps I'd heard from bombs I'd set myself and knew to run. My body moved without my mind, past the guards and for the railing. I leapt up, my foot landing on the railing and ready to jump.

And it blew. The roar of the explosion was deafening, the shockwave stunned me, and sent me flying through the air. Then I heard a sickening crack from inside my own skull as something blunt struck my head. Then blackness, silence.

It was the pain that brought me round. I coughed, a bubble jumping from my throat and for a brief moment I thought I was back in the river with Lin submerged in the trunk of her car beneath me. Blindly I flailed, managing to turn my body so my face was above the water. I felt a hoarse cry of pain bubble in my throat and I coughed up water. My legs! Huge patches of skin up the back of my legs and on my back only felt hot at first, but then they began to burn, and then sear. This skin felt tight, it was agony to try and move, let alone swim. Blindly, weakly I splashed about in the icy water, and then felt my arm hit something hard; a large piece of debris I inelegantly flopped my torso up onto. My ears were ringing and my vision was dark, bright splotches like stars dancing in front of them.

Breathing hurt. Moving hurt, even the gentle bobbing of the water. I lifted my gaze to the burning, smoking mess that was the yacht, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Then, up through the smoke, on the wall above the dock, I saw a familiar figure. I felt a smile of relief. Julius!

…But he just stood there. Watching me. He wasn't calling anyone. He wasn't running for the dock to help me. The smoke began to thicken, and I saw him turn and walk away. Confusion swamped my mind. I'm alive! I wanted to shout to him, Julius, help me!

Blackness began ebbing at the corners of my vision. The pain began to ebb, replaced by the cool comfort of the water. I parted my lips to call out to him.

"Please…"

It was barely a whisper. My vision went black, my hearing dulled further, and I slipped into nothingness.

Dun Dun Duuuuunnnnnn.

Stay tuned, the SR2 story will be up shortly! Any parting reviews would be much appreciated!