[Dearly Departed]
Billy heard the gunshots from the hall. Running up to the wooden door, he paused and waited. He could tell from the muffled sound that the guns had silencers on them.
Billy stayed motionless, his pistol out of his jacket and in his hand. He gripped the gun tightly with both hands. Quietly he eased the door open. It, thankfully, didn't make a sound as it opened partially. He leaned closer to the small opening, trying to see what was going on in Costello's living room.
He gagged slightly by what he saw. The room that had once been a luxury was now a complete mess. Bodies were flung across the plush couches and scattered on the floor, their blood stained the walls and soaking into the carpets. He turned his head from the view, trying to hold onto his breakfast. C'mon, he snapped to himself, You've seen worse. You grew up in Boston for f*ck's sake.
Billy had known that Costello was having a meeting with some of his guys today and he had come to the house with the intention of trying to get into the meeting to see what he could report back to Dignam and Queenan, but he had not been expecting this.
Pushing those thoughts aside, Billy tried to focus on the problem at hand.
Taking a breathe Billy gazed back into the room suddenly realized that the shooters were still in the room and Costello was still alive. His eyes focused on Costello who was on his knees in the middle of the bloody room, then on the two men standing behind him.
Both men were about the same height and build; they even looked a lot alike, other than the fact that one had blonde hair and the other had dark hair. They wore identical black pea coats and Billy could see two black lumps sitting by their feet. They had been wearing masks when they had come in.
Both men had two berettas with silencers pressed against the back of Costello's head.
Frank's face was a mask of fury and fear. Billy had never seen the man scared before. He had always been the one in control, always knew what was happening when it was happening.
"You boys don't know what you're doing. You come into my home and try to kill me? You just signed your own death warrant." Frank was snarling at them.
The darker haired one kicked out, knocking Frank, face first, to the bloody ground. Frank 'oofed' as the air was shoved from his lungs. Almost in the same motioned the young man reached down and had Frank back on his knees.
"Shut th' f*ck up." He hissed. He shared a glance with his companion. "Let's get this done with now, Conn. We have ta take care of tha' other motherf*cker in the cop's office. Dirty cop." He muttered under his breath.
Billy leaned farther forward, his ears perking up. They knew who the mole was? This bit of news almost distracted him from the fact that he recognized the accents to be Irish, not like that was a big surprise, after all this was Boston.
The blonde man frowned at the other.
"Hold yah horses, Murph. You silly bastard. Costello hasn' told us who exactly th' mole is."
Murph looked rightfully ashamed. He walked around Frank, so that he was facing the man.
Leaning down until his face was inches from Frank's, he said, "Listen good. I'm only gonna ask you once. Tell us the name o' the f*cker." Frank grimaced, but kept his mouth shut.
Billy felt his heart sink. So they didn't know his name, only that there was a mole in the office. They knew as much as he did and Frank would never tell.
"Go to hell, you Irish faggot." Murph straighten and shook his head.
"You know, Connor, everyone always calls us tha'. Can' they jus' see we're brothers?" Connor smirked a little in response.
Without any warning Murph's fist shot out catching Frank in the face. It made a dull thumping sound. Like a meat pounder hitting a wet piece of beef. Billy shuddered.
"Tell us now!" Murph shouted into Frank's face.
Frank stared defiantly back, blood dripping from his lips. Murphy hissed in frustration rubbing a hand across his pale face. Billy could see a tattoo clearly on his right hand. Aequitas. Latin?
"This is a waste of time, Conn." He muttered to his brother. "Let's kill him and be done wit' th' matter." Connor nodded, slowly.
"Aye. You're righ'. He's not gonna talk."
At his brother's words Murphy walked back around so that he stood next to Connor once again. He placed his beretta next to his brothers, digging the gun into the back of Frank's head.
From where Billy stood, he could see Frank visibly pale. Frank knew that he was going to die.
Standing side by side the two brothers began to speak.
"And Shepherds we shall be, for Thee, my Lord, for Thee." Both men spoke in unison. "Power hath descended forth from Thy hand, that our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command." Billy felt his heart beat quicken. This was it; the two Irish men were going to kill Frank.
"So we shall flow a river forth to Thee and teeming with souls shall it ever be." Frank began to whimper pathetically.
"In Nomine Patris, et Filii," Pause. Both guns cocked simultaneously. "Et Spiritus Sancti." Billy shut his eyes before both guns fired off their shots. He heard a body thump to the ground. After a few moments, he had the courage to look again.
Frank was dead, two bullets in his head. Both men were calmly putting their guns into their shoulder holsters.
Billy let out a low breath, without meaning to. He had been holding his breath since this whole thing began, but seeing Frank's dead body with blood pooling around the head was the last straw.
Barely two seconds later, he was roughly jerked into the room. The darker haired one shoved him to his brother.
Billy stumbled, but Murphy wrenched him back up.
"Who are ya, then?" He asked harshly. Billy raised both hands above his head, standing between the two brothers.
"I'm a cop. I'm a cop." He said quickly. "Who the f*ck are you?" He said with more confidence than he felt. The brothers exchanged looks.
"Sure yer cop. An' I'm Charlie Bronson." Murphy said, keeping his gun steadily pointed at Billy's face.
"Who we are doesn' matter." Connor added.
"I swear! I work for the department downtown." Billy said, trying to keep his voice calm. "I was put undercover so that I could find the mole in the office. I've been undercover for years now.
All I want is to complete my job and get my life back. You've got to believe me!" Some of his terror was leaking his voice without his consent.
Murphy snorted and said, "Let's kill him too, Conn." Connor rolled his eyes.
"You're such a blood thirsty little bastard ain't you, Murph. No, we're no' gonna kill him. He's a good man." Murphy frowned at his brother.
"The hell would you know?"
Connor glared at Murphy. "F*ck you, I know shit."
After a second Connor continued, "Were ye no' watchin' this man before we came here today, when we were casin' the place? He never once joined in wit' the others, he always was watchin' an' observin'. He always looked like he didn' quite belong. Like he was an outsider."
"So?" Murphy said, impatiently. Connor strode up to his brother, brushing past Billy and slapped his brother on the head. Murphy shoved back and rubbed at his dark head, glaring at Connor.
"So, I thin' he's tellin' the truth and tha' should be good enough for you." Murphy looked like he wanted to protest more, but he shut his mouth and lowered his gun from Billy's face.
"I'm Connor." Connor said shaking Billy's limp hand. "And this here is my brother, Murphy." Murphy didn't shake Billy's hand, but he did give him a nod.
Billy's breathing was finally back to normal. "Who are you guys?" He asked again. The brothers exchanged amused looks.
"Some people call us th' Saints."
It suddenly clicked for Billy. A few years ago there was a big news story about three men breaking into a court room and murdering Poppa Jo Yakavetta, an Italian mob boss. He hadn't paid the story that much attention seeing as he as had been in jail at the time.
Billy looked the brothers up and down with a new light. He now could see the cold determination in both their blue eyes and the resolve to whatever is necessary to rid the world of evil.
Billy cleared his throat and averted his eyes from their faces. Instead he looked down at Frank's lifeless body.
He nudged it with his foot.
"What are you gonna do about the mole?" He asked, "I can help find him. That was actually my mission. I was supposed to figure out who it was."
"Thanks, but it's no' needed. Go get your life back an' let us take care of th' evil men." Murphy said his voice much friendlier than before.
Billy had to admit, the offer sounded good.
He gestured to the bodies, "Do you need help cleaning up?" This time they both laughed.
"Nah. We'll take care of it." There was a noise from the street outside; all three of them glanced toward it. It sounded like a car door slamming, reminding all of them that they weren't safe.
"I would start hightailing it outta here." Connor said, shoving Billy toward the back door.
"What about you boys?" He protested.
"We can take care of ourselves."
With that he was shoved out the door by the two brothers. He stared at the closed door for a moment before taking their advice and getting the hell out of there.
Billy never saw the two brothers again, but he thought about them often. They had probably saved his life. He had been feeling more and more edgy about his undercover job and was positive that he was going to be caught and killed.
He owed his life to the boys and he never did get to say 'thank you', but he figured they probably would have brushed his thanks off and laughed. Wherever
they were, he hoped that they were safe doing what they did best: cleaning the world of evil men.
A/N: I've had this story sitting on my computer for a couple of months now. I wrote it right after I watched "The Departed" for the first time.
I hope that you guys enjoy this (I know that it's not the best story I've ever written, but I like it...).