Guns & Roses was the first story I posted (and finished) that got way more reads and love that I still can't get over. Because it's still a veteran fic that pushed me to keep writing, this is going through a remaster. I'll try and keep everything as original as possible and make it actually readable; I'm checking back and I don't know how anybody was able to read dialogue in the same paragraph. Y'all never could've told me?

DISCLAIMER: The Boss actually has an identity, and there are a lot of (OC and canon) characters in this story. Also this is read better in half or 3/4, always hated the full structure.

They did it.

It wasn't easy. It was never easy, the first strike was Johnny losing his life on the fucking plane that brought them to Steelport. The gangs were a given but fighting a Luchador wrestler in a ring, using a game to reach the final boss of the Deckers and crushing the Morningstar frenchie with his own steel ball were memories the Boss really didn't mind having but felt better off not knowing. That, that was the second strike. The third was when some fuckers called STAG thought they could eradicate the Saints and even tried killing Shaundi to prove a point.

He tightened his hand when he recalled the relief in Shaundi's smile; it wasn't a smile he was used to seeing. He told himself he'd try and keep Shaundi safe, especially since she took Johnny's death harder and heavier than everyone else, even more than himself. "I'm sorry…" he muttered to himself before reaching for the glass on his office desk and downing the last of the watery martini. Even after everything that happened, he knew he was witnessing the calm before the storm. He just didn't know when the storm would rip everything apart. Rip him apart.

He moved from his seat when his phone buzzed in his pocket and, paying no mind to the caller id, answered. Before he could greet whoever was calling, something far more sinister reached his ears. "―coming! It's...everywhere…! How did it―"

Out of context, his mind already set the scene and it was an ungodly sight he wished he never delved into and grimaced as soon as his mind registered the words. "Jesus fucking Christ, Kinzie, I pray to your God that this isn't a buttdial―"

"And even if it was, you're the last person I'd end up calling."

"At least we got that out of the way. So, what's up? I mean aside from the awkward sexual fervor."

He heard Kinzie snort; even though they were almost entirely different people, it was nice sharing a laugh or two. But then the humour died when she answered, "Not to alarm you, Boss but I'm seeing multiple unknown vehicles heading your way. Attack choppers too, all coming from the airport."

"How do you know they're coming here? For all you know they could be one of those Nyte Blayde conventions again, God knows they pop up everywhere now."

"You do realise everyone's still out to kill you, right?"

"There's more? I thought they'd get bored."

"Your naivety is adorable." He sighed. "I hacked into their phones, something about the Syndicate."

He rolled his eyes as he kicked his legs up onto the desk, leaning back into a more comfortable position just as a Saint walked in and dropped a file in front of him, "Fuck the Syndicate. They're done for, whoever's coming don't scare me."He scarcely looked over the materials inside but the pictures inside piqued his interest. It wasn't clear but the massive tattoo of a dragon on her chest was enough to conclude they weren't a regular, considering it was Viola that collected the contents of the file.

"Maybe not, but they're the calvary. You forget that the Syndicate is all over the world, working as a criminal organisation. Taking out Loren and scaring Killbane out of the city wouldn't be enough to wipe them out for good. And they were here first."

"What are you actually implying, Kinzie?"

"Why don't you check outside? I don't think Josh marks a helipad at his conventions."

"Funny." He leisurely swung his legs off the desk and stood in one smooth transition, silently dismissing the Saint with a quick glance and sauntered to the gym when the roar of what sounded like a thousand engines heard in the distance. His disappointed expression shifted into one of subtle alarm. He continued moving, "You're fucking with me, Kinzie."

"Not even a thank you?"

"Fuck! Thank you. Back me up."

"On it."

Cutting the line, he reached down for his Shepherd on the coffee table and turned to the sound of the elevator doors, four of his lieutenants spilling into the main lobby. "Kinzie told us already," Shaundi flashed her phone as confirmation and Josh and Pierce went their separate ways to inform the members that were present in the penthouse. "After Syndicate, you'd think people would learn."

"Apparently not," Viola stopped beside Shaundi. "Besides, they're in everyone's blacklist."

"Gotta please the fans somehow," he replied with a smug grin. "Any ideas, Viola?"

"There's a few names, but it all depends on who's decided to come over."

"Where's Zimos?"

"In Safeword."

"And the big guy?"

"On the way. Why?"

"I want him downstairs. Josh and Pierce stay in here, Shaundi back me up. Viola, send the message to all nearby Saints," he cocked his gun. "Seems like whoever's in Steelport was kind enough to bring the fight to us."

"Okay, okay. Okaaaay. Maybe I'm being a joykill here, maybe I'm just pointing out the obvious but this...this is definitely overkill." She smirked as she admired the weapons in hand before glancing over at her brother. Realising he wasn't even going to acknowledge her, she scowled and instead tucked her weapons into their holsters on her thighs. Her eyes barely skimmed the dashboard before she moved her weight to the door, admiring the high-rise buildings. So this was Loren Square.

"When you're up against a gang that managed to take out the Syndicate, you can't be too careful."

"You're right...but still."

"You're overthinking, Amber," a voice echoed from her earpiece. "They took out the Syndicate. They promised us territory once they got the Saints out, but the Saints are crawling all over and Syndicate are no more. Killbane, big and almighty Killbane, pussied out and fled the city, Miller's in hiding and Loren was crushed to death."

"Anton's right, sis. If the leader of the Saints is capable of doing that, then there are no holds barred. Not for a man like that."

"A shame," she slumped into her seat. "I heard he's cute."

"Cute? Told you not to bring her, Kieran. It's her first official operation, she's only gonna get distracted."

"You focus on flying and I'll focus on driving. Specters, you know what we came for: our POI is none other than the leader of the Third Street Saints. Capture only; he'll only find peace in death. If there's too much heat, we fall back but mark out landmarks. We're on unfamiliar grounds but we don't intend to leave anytime soon, is that clear?"

A chorus of agreements resounded behind Amber and Kieran in waves of burgundy vehicles, with Anton leading the aerial assault a few seconds ahead of the ground convoy. Amber gasped in astonishment as they turned the corner and saw the entrance to the building covered by purple vehicles owned by purple-clad gangsters. "You didn't tell me we were gonna raid a fucking penthouse."

"The less you knew the better," Kieran switched gears and slowed down as the convoy behind them took defensive positions in front of them, swerving to a halt and pouring out of their cars. "Everyone, get―hooooly shit...isn't that one of Loren's clones?"

"I'm already hyped," Amber grinned as she requipped herself with her pistols as Kieran finally stopped the car, casually stepping out of the car and putting up one of her arms as the proximity of Anton's chopper whipped at loose hair and clothing. "We're not even gonna come to an agreement first?"

Kieran frowned, "Tell me: do they look like they're ready to come to an agreement?" Amber looked at the purple mass ahead of them, looked at Kieran, looked at the purple mass again and squinted her eyes at Kieran. "Thought so. Specters, get ready! Anton, call it out!"

Anton chuckled low in their ears, lifting the chopper so that it was level with the penthouse. A few snipers but nobody special, nobody distinct. "Hold." Kieran advanced ahead of Amber, signalling to a few Specters to take their places beside him, iron sights on the Saints ready to defend their place. "Hoooold." Amber wiped her chin with the back of her hand before meeting up with Kieran, albeit more relaxed about a shootout that could possibly kill her. That was until she saw a new face in the crowd and narrowed her eyes. There was a man she didn't recognise. "Now!" Before her vision could focus, the blunt composition of gunfire snapped her out of her trance and she dropped behind a car, cover firing. She was barely through her first clip when the brute launched himself at the first line of cars, bodies and metal crunching and snapping against his strength.

"Anton, get rid of the snipers, they're fucking everywhere," Kieran called out as he replaced the magazine in his sub-machine gun and was briefly knocked off balance by his sister, who stole a grenade from his belt and quietly apologised for it. Using the brute's arrival as a distraction Amber slid on the hood of a red car, pulled the pin with her teeth and tossed the grenade that caught the attention of the ambiguous man. "Amber, look up!" An explosion cracked the sky and she didn't even chance a look as the charred metal that rained down around the fight was incentive enough for her to back up, fast.

"Anton," she panted. "I'm going to find their leader."

"Amber, no―"

"He's probably still hiding upstairs, I'll find a way in there."

"Amber, he's already here." She widened her eyes in genuine surprise as the man unknown ducked out of cover, his attention on the other Specters as he pulled the trigger in a calculated rhythm. As she was the closest to the entrance, she could make a break for it and either get crushed by that big guy or shot to death by the Saints with better awareness. "I need Specters drawing the leader of the Saints towards Amber."

"Didn't even check your pockets, did you?" She furrowed her brows at Kieran's question as she reached into her jacket pockets and felt several metallic disks. "It's a working prototype. You don't have enough for everyone."

"I'll try and share evenly." And she sprinted out of cover haf-expected to be stopped by a wall of bullets. But no wall of bullets met her and she continued running, having to lunge out of the way of the brute's shoulder check and recovered quickly from her overbalance. With a blank mind she reached the purple vehicular fortress and leapt onto one of the cars, dipping her hand into her pockets and throwing out the discs; the discs snapped onto the closest firearm and activated with a click and she laughed as the Saints struggled to fire upon their new target.

The supposed leader of the Saints threw his gun on the floor and ran towards Amber, who took it upon herself to run away from the gunfire and away from backup. She needed him away from his HQ, away from the fight, as far as her aching legs and burning lungs could take her. "You're not getting away that easy," she heard him yell from behind her as she took off down the street, pushing pedestrians out of the way and pulling pedestrians in his.

"You're so stupid," she cackled back as she ended up skidding into a nearby alley but the turn slowed her down, and the leader speared her onto the ground. Amber grunted as he clambered on top of her, trying to turn her onto her back despite her squirming and pushing up against him. She snapped an elbow up to make some room but opening her space meant he could coil his own arm around her shoulder and force her onto her back, a kick into his abdomen knocking him onto his back. With her hair barely holding up in its ponytail, Amber pulled out her hairtie but hissed as searing heat flushed through her back. "Kieran, make sure nobody follows us here!"

"Keep your eyes on me, sweetheart." Amber let out a sound of confusion but his hands were already grabbing her jacket and pulling her onto her feet, and she let out a cry before flinging his arms away and aiming for his stomach again. He jumped back and quickly spun on his heels for a fierce backfist and she ducked underneath the swing and tackled him back onto the floor. Assuming she was going to attempt to choke him, the man threw his arms up but she was faster and grabbed one of his wrists, shifted her weight to the side and wrapped her legs around his arm. "Fuck me!" he blurted as his muscles were pulled against his will, her knees keeping him trapped in the armbar as she arched her hips on his over-extending elbow.

"Already?" she struggled with a smirk. "You haven't even asked me out for dinner tonight."

He looked around and realised the gun that fell out of one of her holsters and tried to reach for them, "You're...you're not the Syndicate."

"Oh, we are. We're just not Loren."

"Why here?"

"They were here first."

"Why me?"

"Why, hm?" She casually let go and he immediately rolled out and onto his feet, Amber cocking her head to the side as she was held hostage by her own weapon. Sighing, she staggered onto her feet and dusted herself off but not without finally examining the man that put her in this goddamn mess. She blinked. He was, he was more than cute. No, he was dripping handsome, it was something about his eyes, purple but not purple, mesmerising and searching all the same. Strong features framed by his 5'oclock shadow and his dark hair, wavy and messy and charming and nope nope nope. She couldn't help it, it was just oozing out of him, the way his tee strained against his muscles, how his jeans hugged his legs deliciously, even the veins that sprouted underneath his skin due to the pressure of her legs from before. Her thoughts could only be summarised by a few words, "Oh, fuck me."

He smirked. It sent a pang straight to her core and she bit her bottom lip. Unreal beauty, he can't exist. She was dreaming, yeah, she had to be dreaming. "What happened to dinner?"