Chapter Text
She got her first tattoo back before she was the Boss, when Lin had been murdered. After it became apparent that the racer wouldn’t be surfacing alive, the kid sat on the bank of the Stilwater river for hours, waiting for anything to wash up. Not even her body; just a shoe, her lucky lighter, anything would do. But eventually the playa couldn’t bare to sit and wait anymore, so she headed towards the sidewalk, trying to ignore the pain in her side from Sharp shooting her.
Her phone was busted, but there was a payphone nearby. Ignoring the graffiti scrawled over it (“for a good time visit Winters’ Palace! Tanya’s girls are waiting”), she fished some change out of her pockets and dialed Julius.
“Wha- hello? Whaddya want? Too fucking early”. Julius was still groggy from sleeping. Best get this over with before he woke up properly and starting asking for details.
“Lin’s dead. Sharp’s next.” Her voice was rough both from anger and lack of use.
“What? Who is- shit, playa? That you?” she grunted her acknowledgement, then hung up even as she could hear him still talking to her.
The kid didn’t know this part of Stilwater that well, but luckily her wound wasn’t anything life threatening, so she decided to just walk along the road until things started looking familiar. But after a few minutes, a shop caught her eye. Rusty’s Needles, the local tattoo/bad decisions parlor.
The playa had always been a little intimidated by all the Saints with ink, they seemed so devoted to the gang. Up until today, she hadn’t been sure if sticking with the Saints was what she wanted to do, but now it was a different story. Julius would stand beside her no matter what, giving her the opportunity to take down Sharp and avenge Lin. She pushed open the door to the parlor roughly, startling the man sitting at the counter, who was watching some cheap porno.
“Ah shit, hi. Uh, this isn’t a robbery is it?”
She shook her head.
“Bit early for a tattoo job, but I have nothing else to do. What are you thinking?”
“Teardrop, right cheek.”
The clerk swallowed nervously. “Um, don’t you normally get teardrops if you kill som-actually you know that sounds like a great idea. I’ll get my kit.”
Five minutes later the kid was sitting white knuckled as the tattoo artist was leaning over her, carefully outlining the tear. Noticing her discomfort, the guy chuckled.
“You’re a first timer?” The playa grunted in the affirmative.
“No way! All of you gang bangers are inked up as fuck. Purple is the Saints yeah?” Another grunt.
“My older brother ran with the Rollerz.”. At the kid’s sudden flash of anger he quickly added “Don’t worry, I hate that methhead fuck. Most I can hope for is that one of you kills him so I don’t have to see him at reunions anymore.”
The kid relaxed and laughed slightly.
“Makes two of us”
Soon the tattoo was finished, and the playa nodded appreciatively at the artist and tossed him a few hundred dollar bills (still slightly damp from the river) before heading out. The bullet wound in her side still burned, and her cheek burned too, but the pain kept her mind focused. She walked back to the Row, thinking about all the different ways she’s make Sharp suffer. As her hatred for that bastard ate away at the kid, the sun began to rise.
It was a new day, and she was fucking furious.