Twin Saints

Prologue

Mission 1-B

Ain’t She A Saint?

The roar of a motorcycle disrupted the peace of Manehatten’s streets, people’s heads turning to watch as a black Sabertooth rolled by, the rider’s gold and crimson hair billowed from below her helmet.

The bike pulled up on the side of the street not long after, slowing to a stop in from on a tall building. The rider stepped off, stretching out for a moment before reaching up to remove her helmet.

“Jeez…” Sunset Shimmer muttered, placing her helmet on the bike’s seat. “I swear, I need a new helmet. That one’s just a little tight.” Shrugging, Sunset smiled, shoving her hands into her pockets as she walked casually into the building before her - the large sign above the doors marking it a King Records.

“Good morning, Miss Shimmer,” a mansat at the front desk called as Sunset stepped through the doors, his yellow suit standing out against the black marble wall behind him. “Mister King has asked to see you.”

“H-he has?” Sunset stammered, suddenly nervous. “I-I thought he was out of town?”

“He was,” the man replied simply. “He got back yesterday and would like to know why you have not recorded any songs in the last week.”

“And did you tell him I’ve been sick?” Sunset demanded. “Did you tell him I had food poisoning!?”

“I did,” the man replied simply. “He was not pleased with your excuses.”

Sunset sighed, hanging her head in defeat. “Okay…” she relented. “Where do I go then?”

“Mister King is awaiting you in his penthouse,” the man provided, returning to his paperwork. Sunset sighed again, turning and walking away from the desk and up to a nearby elevator. Stepping inside, she reached out a pressed the button for the top floor, inscribed with a small yellow crown.

Sunset was silent as she rode upwards, ignoring the world around her. Reaching into her jacket, she rested her hand on a small notebook, biting her lip nervously.

‘If push comes to shove…’ she thought. ‘I’ll have to give him this. I don’t want to end up like the last singer to disappoint Mister King…’ Shuddering suddenly, Sunset thought back to the woman who had made her feel welcome in the professional world - the pop sensation Sapphire Shores. One day, though, Sapphire had just… vanished, and the last person to see her was Mister King.

The sound of the elevator’s bell chiming made Sunset jump. Looking up, she gulped as the doors slid open, revealing a long, oak table surrounded by a plethora of chairs. At the end of the table sat a dark-skinned man in a black suit with a yellow shirt, casually reading that day’s newspaper.

“Please Miss Shimmer, take a seat,” Mr. King said, not looking up at her. Sunset swallowed nervously, moving to sit in the closest chair to her. “Do you know why I have called you here?”

“Y-yes, Mister King,” Sunset stammered. “B-but I can explain! You see-”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses, Miss Shimmer,” Mr. King said, cutting her off. “I want to know if, in your absence, you have made any progress towards any new singles.”

Sunset nodded frantically, pulling the notebook from her jacket. “Y-yes sir, I have.”

“Good,” he said, nodding. “Do make me proud, Sunset.”

“O-of course, Mister King,” Sunset stammered, moving to stand. She paused when the man glanced at her. “Um… w-was there anything else, sir?”

Mr. King stood up with a tired sigh, turning and walking over to an antique brandy cabinet. “I’m getting tired of your attitude, Miss Shimmer,” he said, pouring himself a small glass of the amber liquid. “You are constantly late, you neglect your duties, and you are giving King Records a bad name.”

“B-but Mister King,” Sunset tried, flinching as he turned to her with a raised brow. “I-I’m trying, sir. I can only give so much-”

“Are you defying me?” Mr. King asked abruptly, frowning at her. Sunset gulped before taking a steadying breath.

“I’m afraid I am sir,” she replied. “I just can’t give you anymore of my time than I have.”

Sunset jumped as King slammed his hands down on the table, fury in his eyes. “I AM BENJAMIN MOTHERFUCKING KING!” he roared. “AND YOU WILL DO WHATEVER THE FUCK I SAY!”

Sunset flinched under the verbal onslaught, preparing her retort before something happened that made them both pause.

The glass that King had left on his antique cabinet exploded in a shower of glass and alcohol.

“Excuse me sir,” a tomboyish, but still distinctly female, voice called, making Sunset and King whip around. Sat in an armchair, Desert Eagle in one hand and an open book in the other, dressed in an odd outfit consisting of purple plaid pants, purple turtleneck, black leather jacket with flared collar an black leather knee-length high heeled boots, was a woman, her dark auburn hair held back in a simple ponytail. “But I think you owe the lady an apology.”

“How dare you…” King growled before catching himself, taking a calming breath. “Ahem, excuse me. Who might you be miss…”

“Call me Load,” the woman provided boredly, tossing the book over her shoulder. “You know, if I’m gonna wake up somewhere completely random, I’d at least expect a decent book to read. Not that books are my thing, but still.” She shrugged, standing and turning to them, keeping her gun trained on King. “So, ‘Benjamin Motherfucking King’, do you know who I am now?”

King took a moment to look over Load before quirking his brow. “A Saint?” he asked incredulously. “Interesting. I never expected the Saints to appear in this world, though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Ah, so that’s what happened,” Load mused, smirking. “Well then, Benny-boy, you know what to expect don’t you?” Walking over to Sunset, Load placed a hand on the golden-skinned woman’s shoulder, almost instantly switching her aim to Sunset’s neck. “Do me a favour and tell security to back down, will ya Benny? I’d hate to mess up this pretty face.”

“Um…” Sunset whimpered, sweating nervously. “M-Mister King?”

King watched Load for a moment before nodding. “It will be done. Have a lovely day, Miss Load,” he said sweetly, a pleasant smile on his face.

“You too, King,” Load replied, smirking as she backed into the elevator, pulling Sunset with her. Jabbing the button for the ground floor with the butt of her gun, she waited for the doors to slide shut before letting sunset go, rolling her shoulder. “There we go…”

Sunset stumbled back, pressing herself against the side of the elevator. “Wh-what…” she stammered, trembling with fear. “What are you gonna do to me?”

“Hmm?” Load hummed. “Oh, nothing. But you seemed important to King, so you made a decent hostage.” Pausing, she leaned against the opposite wall, casually inspecting her gun. “He doesn’t treat you right ya know.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Sunset spat, crossing her arms defensively. “But he runs the best record company in the country, so I have to put up with it.”

“Not for long he doesn’t,” Load chuckled. Holding a hand up as Sunset opened her mouth to speak, she continued. “Nevermind that, how’d you like to be one of the first to join the new revolution?”

“R-revolution?” Sunset stammered. “W-what do you mean by that?”

“I mean,” Load sighed. “Join my gang.”

“What!?” Sunset demanded. “Gangs are the single worst thing to happen to this country, and you want me to join one!? No way!”

“Whatever,” Load shrugged, once again pointing her gun at Sunset’s head and holding her hand out. “Keys.”

“W-what?”

“Car keys. I need a ride.”

Swallowing nervously, Sunset reached into her jacket, pulling her motorcycle keys out and shakily handing them over.

“Much obliged,” Load nodded as the elevator chimed. Stepping out, she tucked her gun into her jacket, giving Sunset a two-fingered salute as she backed out. “Have a good one, and look me up if you change your mind.”

Turning, Load sprinted out of the building, Sunset watching her the whole time. Snapping out of her shock as the roar of her bike’s engine rang out, she ran to the building’s main doors, watching as Load rode away.

“Welp,” Load said to herself, hair flowing in the breeze as she drove down the street. “That was fun.”