aequitas and veritas delivering justice unto mexico
Summary: Murphy and Connor go to the bar to relax and plan to do the same justice in Mexico, with the cartels and other similar corrupt operations. When they take one of the cartels, they soon run into Richie and Santanico, hearing of Malvado's operation. They work with them, to take down Malvado. Seth appears later to help. The Boondock Saints/From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series. Multi-chapter; in progress.
Rating/warnings: T, for some swearing, violence and triggering topics.
Fandom: The Boondock Saints / From Dusk till Dawn: The Series.
Main Characters Who Appear: Murphy MacManus, Connor MacManus, Richie Gecko, Santanico Pandemonium, Seth Gecko, Kate Fuller, Malvado.
This Titty Twister bar didn't quite meet up to the part of their beloved McGinty's in South Boston, didn't have the same familiar feeling they were used to, but it was alright nonetheless. It was especially so, because it was a bar so close to where they delivered justice to an American mobster near the border. His mind was on the recent onslaught of jobs they had pulled off in succession with the help of their father Il Duce-he really needed that drink. He turns to Connor, who was boasting a large purple half-healed bruise on his forehead, glad that he had survived.
He continued to stare at his brother, his grey eyes holding the other's gaze steadfast, filled with unspoken words. He noted Connor stared back, with a comprehending gaze, indicating that he understood Murphy. The stare was one they often shared with one another, especially when God's Divine Calling bestowed himself onto them.
They had gone through so much together—could harness in every ounce of their strength into getting free and do the craziest shit if it meant someone they loved was in fatal danger. Especially Connor…Murphy still recalled the time he wrenched the toilet bowl right from the fuckin' ground, and brought it down upon Ivan. It was a shocking yet admirable display of furious determination.
"One more beer, please; a Phelan if you 'ave it."
Murphy requested to the blonde bartender, and then turned back to Connor, whilst drinking the remaining dregs of his current glass of beer.
"Y'know, we should take down these lowlife cartels here, 'ey, Connor."
Murphy already knew Connor would answer in agreeable assent. This was their job now—saints not just in America, but Mexico too, for sure. Albeit, a more lax job from the norm-kind of like 7-Eleven. He and his brother, along with their father, had researched extensively about these cartels, with their drug trafficking operations. There was sure to be a huge abundance of them here. They couldn't let the cartels continue running, akin to the mafia-letting them get away with as much as fuckin' 20 kilos of drugs and more. Additionally, that crazy drug war in Mexico had been plastered all over the internet, plenty of links to research up on.
"Aye, brother."
Connor said, wincing slightly from the bruise which the movement had amplified. He placed his empty glass down.
The bartender poured the ale that Murphy had requested, into a new clean glass, it filling up a dark autumn red.
"Cheers."
Murphy nodded to her, and then turned back to Connor, whilst drinking it. He tasted the unique and deliciously sweet alcoholic texture; there was the familiar fruity taste intermingled with caramelising nuts.
They soon found out where their first targeted cartel was operating, helped by both their research and the illegal pagers they acquired in Boston. After discussing a bit more in the bar, they ventured outside, and after a while, they set upon the people associated with the cartel, guns a-blazing.
Murphy put the barrel of his gun on the back of the cartel thug's head, ignoring his pleas. He understood what the thug was saying all right (Spanish), but it was the exact kind they constantly heard; to please release him, accompanied with a shitload of swearing. Soon, they determined he was one of the many hitmen.
Connor noted he mentioned the name Carlos, interspersed between all these unnecessary words, the most important part.
"...So we shall flow a river forth to thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be." They chanted their family prayer in unison.
"In nomine patris-" Connor started to end the prayer.
"Fuckin' libérame!" The hitman screamed, struggling to free himself from the piece of rope they wound around his hands and feet.
"Et Filli." Murphy continued, pushing the barrel of his gun further onto his head with an edge of more instinctive rage-fuelled enthusiasm. He couldn't get away with this.
"Spiritu Sancti." Connor finished, and as the last syllable left his lips, they both simultaneously shot their bullets on the back of the hitman's skull, two sharp sounds that resounded harshly in their ears.
They laid the pennies on the eyes of the hitman, some more hitmen, the falcons and a handful of their lieutenants, their bodies littered all over the concrete pavement.
As they were making the divine sign of the Holy Cross above the bodies, Connor spots a woman and man steadily approaching them.
He whacks Murphy's shoulder to alert him of possible danger, and Murphy quickly twists around. They both cock their guns, ready to shoot if the strangers were intending to kill them.
"Gentlemen." The man spoke, averting his gaze quickly to the woman, and back to them. His expression was one that read of attempted patience, although it was starting to veer towards annoyance. "We haven't come to fight. It's just—that cartel; we were staking it out."
And these two men had just ruined his perfectly constructed plan.
To be continued...