"For the LORD loveth judgment, and forsaketh not his saints; they are preserved for ever: but the seed of the wicked shall be cut off." – Psalm 37:28
Life hardly ever worked out the way it was supposed to. If life went as planned, Eunice Bloom would be safe in her bed in Boston. She'd be getting ready to get some sleep before returning to the FBI office. Life would be the same. Easy. But, as we all know, life never goes according to plan. Instead, former Special Agent Bloom was riding in a rather small, rather smelly dingy with a man who, by all other accounts, was dead and buried. She had to smile to herself, though. If anyone could fake their own death and actually succeed, it would be Paul.
Paul Smecker. That sneaky old son of a bitch. She reached out a hand and poked his shoulder, trying to overcome the overbearing belief in her head that he was dead and this was all a dream.
"What the fuck was that for?" Paul turned to face her while keeping one hand rested on the motor.
"Just trying to believe you're really here and not back in Boston, pushin up daisies."
"Believe it, honey." He flashed his signature smirk. Eunice always thought he was attractive. Too bad he was about as straight as a wet noodle. He lifted his other hand and pointed off into the distance. Eunice followed his direction and found herself staring at a shoreline. She assumed this was the monastery the Father had talked about earlier. As if reading her mind, Paul addressed her.
"There it is. Our secret hideaway. See that man on the shoreline? That's Father Morrison. He'll be helping us with our endeavors from here on out."
"How long have you been working on this, you sneaky bastard?"
"Since I metaphorically kicked the bucket, sweetheart. I've been hard at work planning their next move. And then that piss-head Yakaveta got in the way and totally fucked up the whole thing."
Eunice just shook her head and smiled. This was the Paul she loved and missed. Things were about to look up for the both of them.
"Alright Paul. Let's get to work. I want my boys out of there as soon as possible. Who knows what could be happening in that place right now."
"Oh, stop your fussing. Those boys are the biggest hard-asses around. Plus I'm thoroughly convinced that the good Lord Himself is on their side. It's the other poor bastards in that place that you should be worrying about."
"You boys want to go out for yard time, or stay here in the medical bay?" John really didn't want to ask, but he had to. He could only pray that they would choose to stay. He knew that once they stepped out on that pavement, the whole world as he knew it would go to shit.
Connor glanced at Murphy, who shook his head. "No thanks, Johnny-boy. We're not planning on leavin' for a while now." Connor knew it was true. As long as Romeo was in a coma, Murph wouldn't leave his side. That was his favorite part about his brother, though. The pure loyalty he showed. Plus, he wouldn't want to do that to poor John. He was a good lad, and if they left things would get fucked. Maybe when that bastard Chris was on duty…
"Okay. Let me know if you guys need anything, Connor." With that, he stepped outside. John knew that these were okay guys. He was actually a big supporter back when they first started out. He knew he could leave them alone in there without any problems.
"Murph, I know you're worried 'bout Rom, but we gotta get outta this room. We're gonna go crazy."
Murphy just looked up at his brother. "I'm not fuckin leavin 'til he wakes up." No one held the guilt like Murph. After Rocco died, it took him months to fully accept it. He always blamed himself. Now his friends as well as his father were dead. He couldn't lose Rom too.
"Well, seeing as how were alone and gonna be here for a bit, what say we start talkin 'bout getting outta here?" This got Murphy's attention. He got up and sat on the bed next to his brother.
"I'm not gonna lie to ya, Connor. We're fucked. How are we gonna get outta this one?"
"Well, we gotta assume that no one on the outside's comin ta help. Dolly and Duffy are probably in shit of their own, and Bloom's gotta be half-way 'round the world by now."
"If only we had some fuckin' rope." Murphy laughed as Connor hit him upside the head. They both shared a smile.
"Don't question the rope. It's worked like a charm both times. Do ya think we can get our hands on some in here?" Murphy covered his eyes and shook his head. Another brilliant plan that was going to go to shit, courtesy of Connor MacManus.
"Okay, seriously. What do ya think we should do? John-boy over there seems like a good guy. Think we can turn him?"
"Nah, I don't wanna risk it. 'sides, he's got a family. We can't guarantee that this will roll off his back. Remember Dolly, Duffy and Greenly? They shit their pants when they thought we were back. We can't do that to someone else."
"Yeah, you're right. Well, that leaves us up a river without a fuckin' paddle, don't it? I say we wait for Rom. Once he's up, we can plan our next move. Don't tell the bastard I said this, but he's got some pretty fuckin good ideas. Better than your shit plans anyway."
"Hey, watch your fuckin mouth! Each one got the job done, didn't it?" Connor grabbed the pillow from the bed and started hittin Murphy in the head with it. They stopped suddenly when John burst through the door, gun up and aimed at their heads.
"What the hell is going….oh. Sorry boys, just got a bit worried. What the hell are you guys doing anyway?" Connor and Murphy just stared at each other for a second. John shook his head and started back out the door. He couldn't help but think that these guys were either geniuses, or just plain fuckin insane.