Someone was watching them. Neither Connor nor Murphy could place where the stare was coming from or from whom, but there defiantly was a set of eyes burning on their necks and discovering if the look was threatening or not was driving the brothers to their wits-end. The stare had the absent feeling of a threat, but it gave little comfort in that it didn't feel entirely safe either. As the Twin's kept walking, trying to stay as calm as a stalked person can be, Murphy noticed Connor's eye shifted from side to side, searching skittishly as they walked down the dirty-incrusted street they called their home.

Reaching into his pocket, the darker-haired brother pulled out a cigarette and a liter.

"Ye feel tha' too?" Murphy whispered through lighting the loosely place cancer-stick perched between his lips.

Connor reached out a hand in front of his brother and beckoned for a cig. Murphy placed the nearly-empty pack and his lighter gently in his brothers hand, as he looked up the short ways to Connor's face for his answer. A short bend of Connor's neck gave Murphy his answer.

They were defiantly being followed.

- - - - -

The alleys were the best place to lose a stalker, but the farther the McManus brothers went the heavier the stare got. They finally stopped behind a brick building that was popular with corner-workers. There were about a dozen or so hookers evenly spaced to look inconspicuous from normal passer-by's (or passer- buyer's).

As Connor and Murphy slowed to a stop, they looked around them for where ever the hell that look was coming from.

"This is gettin' a li'l fuckin' ridiculous!" Connor exclaimed to his brother.

"What the fuck do you suppose we do, then?" Murphy spat back.

"How the fuck should I know!"

This feeling was really sending the brothers to the edge and frankly it was scaring the living shit out of them. They knew the cops were on the look out for the Saints, but they knew Smecker was keeping there asses clued to their desk-chairs, flooding them with paper work and other assignments he could pull out of his ass. It was a possibility that it was the rest of the Italian Mob out to get them for popping their boss in court, but it couldn't be. They don't do cat and mouse. They do 'find and kill on sight'

Murphy looked to his wired brother running his hand through his hair and started worrying his own hands in anticipation.

"The Russian Mod, then?" Connor spoke the end of his thread of thought.

"Can't be," Murphy said, "Who would send them? They have no boss, after we shot all the bastards,"

"Fuck," Connor sighed, looking around fruitlessly.

They were getting nowhere fast. The brother's hadn't a clue of what to do. They could probably pull a few more things out of their Irish asses, but nothing that would dampen their fear.

"I need a pint," Murphy said to the air.

Connor nodded his head and walked a ways to the end of the back-street. The stare was still out there somewhere and they hoped they didn't run into it anytime soon, but as they neared the exit a few more hookers leaned up against the wall with the perfected look of 'come get me'. They were all scantily dressed with skirts that barely covered anything and strips of fabric that shouldn't be classified as a shirt, but as Connor and Murphy began to exit the darkness, one of the girls stuck our from the others. She was right at the opening, looking out to the streets up ahead. The girl was leaning against the brick wall, looking away from the brothers with a casual slouch to her body. Her hands were in the pockets of her hole-less jeans that reached to the bottom of her black Converse's with straight milk chocolate hair coming past her broad shoulders wearing a simple black tank-top. As Connor and Murphy neared the girl they saw right away how tall she was. She was taller than the twin's so that made her 5 foot 10 easily, the other was that she had some muscles on that thin body. Everything on her was sculpted and hard as a rock.

Even as they came almost face to face with her, they couldn't stop looking at her. She had green eyes outlined in thickly smeared black eyeliner that almost seemed to cast a shadow over her eyes and thick lips that sat in a neutral line across her face, but what stuck out the most on this girl was a black-inked tattoo that arched upwards across her chest.

PHILêSUCHOS

They were unto subtle about their prying eyes and Murphy knew it and soon did Connor, because the girl caught both of their stares and held it. As they kept walking away she kept there eyes until their heads couldn't turn any farther around on their necks and right before the brothers lost their sight on the girl she smirked, turned and went the other way into the alley where they just came.

Connor and Murphy walked silently in the streets for about seven blocks until Murphy had to break the heavy air.

"What do ye suppose tha' tattoo meant?"

You could hear the undeniable curiosity in the brothers voice and he knew Connor was thinking the same thing.

"I don't know, but she's been in prison," Connor proclaimed.

Murphy gave his brother a look of 'what the fuck?'

"How do ye fig're?"

"She has black band tattoo's 'round her wrists. It's rea'ly ol' school," Connor vaguely explained, "I'm goin' to call Smecker. Somethin' doesn't fit right with girl,"

There was a pause. Something wasn't right.

"Ye feel tha'?" Murphy scowled questionably.

"Feel wha'?" Connor asked as he stuck a cigarette into his mouth.

"Exac'ly!"

"What the fuck are ye talkin' about Murph?"

"Tha' feelin' for before! It's gone!"

Connor stopped midway from lighting his cig. and thought about it.

"Holy fuck!" Connor hissed, nearly dropped the lighter.

"Ye need to call Smecker and dig some shit up 'bout dis girl, now!"

Connor was at the nearest phone booth before his brother could finish.