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Quirky Row Chapter 53: Failure and Fun Times
🕑 Added 2025-08-20 16:00:08 +0000 UTCChapter 53: Failure and Fun Time
(Saturday, March 31st, 2124)
“How did the bastard escape?!” Playa demanded furiously as he paced his office in agitation.
It was half past midnight, and only a few hours since the disastrous trip to meet Julius. Learning they’d both been played by Dex was frustrating. Discovering his former girlfriend had been reanimated as a mutated monster under said betrayer’s control had made him absolutely livid, to the point wisps of smoke were drifting off of his body as his Quirk reacted to his emotions.
“He ran right into the cops and used them as shields,” Johnny explained with a grimace.
“And they helped him?” the leader of the Saints uttered incredulously.
“Hey, don’t forget that as far as everyone else is concerned, Dex is an upstanding member of society and one of Ultor’s key members,” Johnny reminded his boss. “And the average cop wouldn’t know what a Nomu is by sight alone. Lin would have looked like a person with a mutation type Quirk.”
“Fuck!” Playa snarled. “Has this broken on social media yet?”
“Info is trickling in, but most people have no idea what is going on, they just heard the shooting and sirens,” Johnny assured him. “It seems like its being suppressed in the main news outlets.”
“Makes sense. Ultor and more specifically Vogel wouldn’t want one of their own to come under scrutiny in case in it reveals Dex’s crimes,” Playa muttered. “And Dex sure as hell won’t want to publicize this for the same reasons.”
“Twenty-One and the other Social Media Mavens in the gang are already downplaying our involvement. We weren’t spotted and Julius claimed it was a random drive-by, so nobody knows we were involved,” Johnny stated, which made Playa relieved.
“This cannot happen again, Johnny,” Playa declared a moment later. “Find Dex, and kill him.”
“I’ve got guys watching his house and his office, but the man isn’t stupid, so he’ll probably lay low in a safe house,” Johnny said.
“He’ll have to surface at some point. The moment he does, I want his fucking head. Do you understand, Johnny?” Playa demanded.
“Sure do, boss man. But what do you want to do with Lin?”
At that, Playa paused in his pacing. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I need some time to think about this.”
“Talk to Shaundi and Mink,” Johnny urged. “They deserve to know, and have some input.”
“…Fine,” Playa grunted. He couldn’t deny that his best friend’s advice was solid, and made a mental note to talk to them as soon as he could.
“Anything else I should know about before I try to catch some sleep?” Playa asked, starting to feel tired as his adrenaline drained from his system.
“Jean-Paul has a new training regimen he wants you to look over and rubber stamp,” Johnny claimed. “It’s supposed to be good for conditioning people into mercenaries like what you want to make the Saints into.”
“I’ll give it a read in the morning,” Playa replied.
“Gotcha. Oh, and there’s a couple of buildings under our control in Shivington that need to be repaired ASAP. We’ve been delayed with fixing ‘em up, and we can’t keep putting it off.”
“Have one of the construction companies we control to deal with it,” Playa replied.
Two-thirds of the construction companies in Stilwater had been gang run money laundering operation, and the Ronin and Brotherhood had controlled most of them. But with those gangs liquidated and their assets seized, the Saints were using them for their own money laundering needs, as well as any building repairs that were necessary.
“Yeah, about that,” Johnny said, and Playa could feel a headache coming on.
“What is it?”
“Ultor has been sniffing around Shivington. Well, real estate companies that are shells for Ultor, at least. They’re making some pretty big offers to people in the projects, offering to buy out buildings for modest sums, but are actually more than fair for the shitty infrastructure.”
“They’re trying to pull another Saint’s Row!” Playa realized, figuring it out quickly.
“Seems like it. Buy up properties that are dirt cheap due to crime and shit, then evict the people and bulldoze everything, replacing it with shiny new buildings they can sell for absurd prices,” Johnny confirmed.
“Bastards,” Playa scowled. “Find out more about this! And if necessary, buy up all the properties Ultor wants ourselves! We cannot allow those corporate scumbags to take over the city in a roundabout way!”
“Gotcha,” Johnny said. “It’ll be expensive, but better us than them, eh?”
“Exactly,” Playa nodded. “Now, I’m going to take a nap. Only wake me up if something crazy or important happens.”
With that, he closed his eyes and kicked his feet back up onto his desk. Johnny walked out of the office to give his friend some sleepy time.
When Playa woke up, he’d managed to get a couple hours of much needed rest, and dawn was just starting to creep up across the sky.
Breakfast was a microwaved burrito heated up in the Mission’s breakroom, along with instant coffee made in a spare mug. When he was done cramming his gullet with his breakfast he stumbled back to his office.
A little bit of paperwork later, and Playa was starting to feel a little bit better about things with Dex and the rest of the issues facing Stilwater and the Saints. Suddenly, an explosion, muffled slightly by his door, absolutely ruining his mood.
“The fuck was that?!” Playa demanded, jumping to his feet, his gun popping into his hand. Then, he grabbed his phone and called his allies.
“Report! What is going on?!” he demanded.
“Bounty hunters!” Pierce replied after answering the call. “There’s bounty hunters attacking the Mission!”
“What?!” Playa exclaimed incredulously. “Who has the fucking audacity?!”
“Dunno! I’m gathering people to drive them off!” Pierce informed Playa. “But we might need backup!”
“Call Johnny! And I’ll be there soon!” Playa said. “Where are they right now?!”
“They’re trying to break in through the backdoor! Some of ‘em have explosives! Don’t know what else they’ve got!” Pierce replied. A second explosion rang out, and he said, “I’ll call ya back!” before hanging up.
Playa grunted in frustration and grabbed his villain outfit, throwing it on before storming out of his office. He soon found Pierce and a few other Saints armed with guns near the staircase.
“Yo, boss!” Pierce called out when he spotted him coming. “Sure that’s safe?”
“I’m sorry, but I need to vent some frustrations!” Skunk replied angrily. “And these morons are perfect for it!”
“Fair enough!” Pierce shrugged. “Okay, let’s go!”
The bounty hunters, if that really was who they were, had not managed to break in yet, but were blasting away by chucking actual sticks at dynamite at the building. It seemed they wanted to destroy the place and force the Saints to leave it in order to confront them.
“Well, if they want us to come out to them, then we shall oblige!” Skunk declared. “Pierce, grab your shield and rush them! We’ll follow!”
“Yeah!” Pierce laughed, picking up his riot shield. It’d been given a fresh new coat of purple paint, and had a big golden Fleur d’Lys on the front as well. He channeled his Quirk into it before rushing out the door straight at the people assaulting the Mission.
“Go, go, go!” Skunk shouted as he ran out after him.
There were three bounty hunters. One had a mole’s head and possessed some degree of Geokinesis as he was able to manipulate the concrete and dirt to create shields for his allies. The other two lacked any mutations, but one was dressed like an old-timey prospector with a bandolier full of dynamite strapped to his chest, while the other had his blue hair in a bowl cut and was carrying an assault rifle, likely for picking off anyone trying to escape.
They did not expect Pierce to lead the charge, nor for his Quirk enhanced shield to tank all of the bullets the third bounty hunter shot at him. Then, the horrific smelling gas Playa sprayed at them from his gauntlets completely destroyed their plans as they stopped what they were doing, dropped everything they’d been holding, and cried in pain as their noses were assaulted.
“Not ze stink!” the mole-headed man shrieked as he clutched his nose.
Then, to everyone’s horror, the dynamite wielding bounty hunter dropped one of his sticks the moment the stench had washed over the trio. Unfortunately, it’d been lit.
“SHIT!” a Saint cried out, rushing over and kicking the sizzling stick of dynamite away. The kick was good, sending it flying away, where it eventually rolled under a car. The explosion knocked it onto its side, smoke pouring from its ruptured innards before exploding a second time as the Explodium fuel in its tank went off.
“Ah, dude! Not my car!” another Saint complained, and Skunk winced sympathetically.
“Make a note on whose vehicle that was, alright?” the leader of the Saints asked Pierce. “We’ll repay him with a new car.”
“Sounds fair,” Pierce nodded. “Now let’s stomp on some heads!”
The Saints cheered and slammed into the bounty hunters, smacking them around and knocking any weapons they may have had away. Chains and rope was brought out to tie them up, and though the three attackers resisted, they couldn’t hold off a dozen gangsters.
“Find out who these morons were,” Playa demanded as he delivered a kick to the ribs of the dynamite carrying lunatic. His explosives had been confiscated, along with several lighters and boxes of matches. “And call somebody to start fixing the place up!”
Several chunks of the building and sidewalk were missing thanks to the Bounty Hunters’ recklessness, and would need to be repaired ASAP.
There were also sirens in the air, the police and heroes finally making their way towards the fighting.
“Better go inside, boss,” Pierce suggested. “If they catch you wearing that costume, they’ll try to arrest you even when it’d be smarter not to.”
“You’re probably right,” Skunk sighed, running a hand over his gas-mask.
He hurried into the Mission, and quickly divested himself of his costume. No reason to tempt fate, after all. Then, once back in his office, he pulled out his phone and texted a short message to his girlfriends: ‘We need to talk.’
They arrived as quickly as they could, and twenty minutes after he sent his text Mink and Shaundi were knocking on his door.
“Hey,” Shaundi said as she walked inside. “You know, it’s usually the gals who use that particular message.”
“I am aware,” Playa snorted.
“Is everything alright? Did the bounty hunters do something?” Mink asked in worry.
“They weren’t a problem,” the head of the Saints replied. “Kinda disappointing, honestly. Hardly any tricks, and they didn’t seem to know a damn thing about us. If they had, they’d have known about our Quirks.”
“Good point,” Shaundi said with a nod. “That’s sloppy work.”
“It’s not like we’re famous or anything,” Mink added with a sarcastic drawl. “But what do I know about how people like that think?”
“What is the matter, then?” Shaundi asked, before blinking as a realization hit her. “Shit, this is about last night, isn’t it?”
“It is. How much do you know about… the incident?” Playa asked.
“Not much. Rumors about Julius and you being attacked by Dex. Um, and something about a Nomu?” Mink replied.
“‘Yes’ to both,” Playa said, looking tired. “Turns out Dex had been manipulating everybody for a while. He was the reason Julius was caught by Monorail. He’s the reason the Saints had to do Alderman Hughes’ dirty work. And he’s also the one who tricked Julius into bombing the yacht.”
“Fuck,” Shaundi grunted.
“And the Nomu with him means he’s working with All for One,” Mink muttered.
“Actually, that doesn’t seem to be the case,” Playa admitted. “He does have connections to the Syndicate, though. And they are the ones who provided Dex with the Nomu.”
He then grimaced. “And speaking of it… the Nomu was… it was Lin.”
“Huh?” Shaundi uttered in bewilderment. “What do you mean?”
“I mean it was Lin! Dex stole her brain and somehow the Syndicate used it to clone her a new body!” Playa explained, angrily slamming his fist onto the desk. “Right now, Lin’s brain is sitting inside of a clone of herself, along with at least one other extra Quirk and who knows what else!”
“Your old girlfriend?” Mink gasped, and Shaundi immediately had a look of horror.
“No… they wouldn’t!”
“Yeah. They did,” Playa said, slumping in his seat and grabbing his head. “I can’t do it. I can’t kill her. Or bare to lose her a second time. I’m sorry.”
“Shit, it’s not your fault,” Shaundi said, and she and Mink both circled around his desk, wrapping him up in a double embrace.
“Yeah, don’t apologize,” Mink added.
The three of them stayed like that for a while, unable to say or do anything else. The two lieutenants comforted Playa, doing their best to keep him from suffering a mental breakdown.
Sadly, all good things come to an end, and their private moment was interrupted by a knock at the door.
“What is it?” Playa demanded, annoyed, pressing a button that unlocked and opened the door.
“Uh, I didn’t want to bother ya, boss, but… Julius Little is here, and he wants to see ya,” the Saint who’d knocked on the door said, wilting a little under the stare Playa, Shaundi, and Mink were shooting him.
“He came here? Willingly?” Playa asked incredulously.
“Yup. We took the gun he had, but he didn’t exactly fight it,” the Saint replied.
“Odds are he has a few other hidden weapons. That Quirk of his can let him tuck stuff away out of sight really easily,” Playa huffed.
“You should see him,” Mink suggested, and Shaundi nodded.
“Yeah, if he came here, maybe he wants to apologize?”
Playa glanced at his girlfriends before sighing. “Send him up,” he told the gangster, who hurried off to do so.
A minute later, Julius walked into the office. The former boss of the Third Street Saints looked as if he hadn’t slept a wink since last night, and had dark bags under his eyes along with a pained expression.
“Hello again, Phil,” Julius said. “No warm welcome for me?”
“I let you in in the front door and didn’t shoot you,” Playa said curtly. “That’s more than you deserve, honestly. So tell me: why are you here?”
“I fucked up, Playa,” Julius said, looking tired and broken, but with a faint flicker of defiance still glowing within his eyes. “But I’m not gonna sit here and let that shit consume me. I’m gonna get back at Dex. And I’m at your disposal to do so.”
“You’re willing to work under me? You don’t want to take back your position as leader?” Playa asked, and Julius shook his head.
“No. I may have started the Saints, but I was never a good leader. And you, Playa? You’ve shown you can handle the gang properly. And even as a lieutenant, you and Johnny were more well-known and the public faces of the Saints. My time is passed. I’m an old, broken man whose made too many mistakes. Now, I just want to try and fix some of ‘em.”
For a few seconds, he just stared, hand itching to reach for his revolver. But Shaundi put a hand on his arm, and Playa took a deep, shuddering breath.
“I’m going to work you like a dog, Julius,” Playa finally declared. “You have five years’ worth of shit to repay me for, and don’t expect anyone else to accept you back into the gang so easily. No lieutenant position, either. You’re working from the ground up.”
“I won’t let you down,” Julius promised.
“I know you won’t. Because I’m assigning you to work under Johnny. And if you fuck up? It won’t be me you’ll be dealing with,” Playa said darkly.
Julius swallowed a little but nodded in understanding all the same and offered his hand to shake. Playa accepted it.
And so, the deal was made.
111 ^^^ &&& ^^^ 111
(Sunday, April 1st, 2124)
In an attempt to settle things down in the city after the chaos caused by the shooting at the church, Playa decided to put on some displays of power to remind the people of Stilwater who was in charge.
To take advantage of April Fool’s Day, Playa had arranged for a large carnival and street fair event to take place around Stilwater U. He’d been planning this for weeks, and was going to go on ahead with it, regardless of the issues currently facing the gang.
The university had eagerly agreed to the idea, for a number of reasons. The main one being that with the Sons of Samedi removed, the area around the campus had jumped in value, and the school was trying to reinvent their image. No longer would they be known as the college with the highest amount of drug use in the country, or the lowest rate of graduation! Oh, it was unlikely they’d ever shake the Party School label, but at least nobody was ODing every time a Frat hosted a kegger.
Going along with the Saints’ idea also had the benefit of showing that the university was under the Saints' protection. So the Dean had signed off on the plan Playa had proposed, and everyone was happy. It was free advertising for both the Saints and Stilwater U, after all. What was not to like?
“Ooo! Look! Cotton Candy!” Shaundi said eagerly as she ran towards a stand selling the fluffy, sugary treat.
“Calm down, it’s not going anywhere!” Playa laughed. At his side, Mink giggled.
“Thanks for taking us out on a date,” Mink said, shooting a smile at him.
“Yeah. I needed to take a break,” Playa agreed, before slinging an arm around her shoulder, bringing Mink closer to him. “And this seemed like a fun little outing for all of us.”
He sighed, looking up at the clouds in the sky. “I can’t even remember the last time I took a break. Or attended a street fair like this… I think it was before the coma, but I can’t be sure.”
“There’s a lot of stuff to do in order to enjoy our date,” Mink said. “I see a strength tester, duck shooters, and plenty of knock-off prizes to win!”
“Hey, guys, look! It’s Mink!” Shaundi said, drawing their attention to her as she walked back to them while holding up a stick of pink cotton candy. She then took a big bite of it, grinning lasciviously at Mink as she did so.
“A preview of what is to come tonight,” Shaundi declared, licking her lips, and Mink blushed heavily, unable to look her fellow lieutenant in the eye.
“You’re gonna make her go nuclear if you keep that up,” Playa warned, a smirk of his own.
“Party pooper,” Shaundi pouted.
“I never said you should stop,” Playa said with a wink, and Shaundi laughed while the pink-haired girl mewled in embarrassment.
“You’re both so mean!” Mink whined.
“Sorry, not sorry,” Shaundi said, throwing an arm around her shoulder. “Come on, how about I apologize by making Playa here win us some crappy carnival prizes?”
“I would like a duck,” Mink admitted, glancing at one of the shooting games.
And no, Mink did not mean a stuffed plushy in the shape of a duck. Some of the prizes were actual ducks, ranging from live quakers in a pen, to plucked and ready to be eaten rotisserie ducks rotating on a spit.
‘Only in Stilwater,’ Playa thought to himself, shaking his head at the sheer oddity of the prizes. He reached for his wallet all the same, prepared to win his girls some food. Or pets. Whichever.
“Here we go, here we go,” Playa muttered as he paid for a toy gun and three shots.
Lining up the first target, he fired… and missed. And then he tried again. And missed.
“Wow, you suck!” Shaundi laughed.
“Give me a break, I’m not used to shooting at stationary targets! Plus, these are toys!” Playa huffed, before firing a third time… and winging the edge of the duck-shaped target. Not enough to earn any points, but better than the first two.
“Johnny would probably be really good at this,” Playa mused as he paid for another round of shooting.
Upon hearing that, the man at the stall groaned and tapped a photo that had been taped to the side of the booth. It was a picture of Johnny Gat himself with the words ‘DO NOT ALLOW’ written on it.
“Ah, I take it he completely cleared you guys out once,” the gang boss mused.
“He took so many of my ducks,” the man sighed.
Forty dollars and many missed shots later, and Playa finally managed to win his girls two plump ducks of their own. Mink was cooing over her white-feathered friend, while Shaundi was chowing down on the drumstick of her own prize.
“Want one?” the dreadlocked woman asked, offering the other drumstick to Mink.
“What? No! Not in front of Sir Quackers!” the pink-furred girl gasped in horror. Then, in a soft whisper, “Save it for later, though.”
Shaundi nodded in understanding. Playa just laughed. This was fun! He really needed to get out more often.
‘When the city is safe and Dex is taken care of,’ Playa decided silently. ‘Then I can take a rest.’
