-In a world of mob stars and people trying to rise above each other, two brothers and their rag tag group of friends make these power hungry criminals seem like nothing more then children. So would it come as any surprise that, much like their father was once used, that one mobster would get it into his head to try and harness the power of the Saints for their own purpose? The only question is...will it work?
-Takes place after the second movie (considering they don't end up in prison at the end of it!) Using Breaking Benjamin songs.
Evil Angel
Chapter One: There's No Chance For Us
"There's no chance for us Who wants to live forever?
It's all decided for us
This world has only one sweet moment
Set aside for us
Who wants to live forever?
Ooh, Ooh, Ooh
Who dares to love forever?
Oh, Oh, when love must die..."
-Breaking Benjamin 'Who Wants to Live Forever'-
The fingers came up, stroking over the light stubble as a tongue moved, clicking against the back teeth in a faint tsking sound that seemed to denote deep thought. It was the only noise that filtered out through the thick cigarette smoke yet none of the three forms seemed even remotely upset about this fact. They all just stared straight ahead, eyes narrowed against the familiar burn of cigarette smoke to look at the window that looked over South Boston. It was by no means a pretty sight. Run down buildings were crammed together, some choking the air with great plumes of toxic breath. Still it was home, a sight they fought for, bleed for, bleed on. The faint sound finally stopped long enough for a voice to slip through the haze, thickened by the mourning Irish accent.
"One final set up on Da."
There was silence again, three minds once more falling into thought. Each was bogged down with the sight of the old Irish man taking his last breath, uttering his last words as his bleeding and sobbing boys clung to him strongly, the fear at loosing the man that had been lost to them for so long now made real not even a decade after finding him. The man's blood ran strong in them, let them know who they were and why they had the desire to do what they did long before meeting him. He was the first one in their new jobs to show them that they weren't untouchable, putting a bullet in both his sons and shaving off their friend's finger. A friend he had never had the pleasure of knowing but was surely sharing a pint with in heaven. There was another intake of air that warned of more words to be spoken, once more in a thick accent from the Emerald isle.
"And those bastards finally got him."
Silence once more. No one really knew what to say, but they knew what needed to be done. They had planned it all carefully while they were laid up, healing from the wounds that had been near fatal from the fire fight that had finally taken their Da's life. They were suited up, coats over shoulder holsters, guns cleaned, prepped, and loaded, rosary tucked gently between shirt and skin. This time a third voice broke the silence, the accent thickly Mexican. There was excitement in this one, almost a desire to be proven.
"We'll get them. They can't keep running and we've shown that we ain't easy to take down. They're gonna be fucking running all over Bean Town to try and hide and we'll flush 'em out like the rats they are!"
The two Irish men nodded, face still solemn, one last silent prayer spoken for their lost father. He would die a hero, taking out one that had viciously killed a priest, an innocent man, and set countless others up over the years for his own personal game, but still be labeled a criminal by the police and society. The thought was sobering, and for a moment continued to leave the trio in silence, peering out the window and taking slow drags from the ever present cigarettes. It was then a new sound leaked out amongst the heavy exhales. It was a soft sniffing, followed by what could only be described as a whimper. Two heads turned towards the sound, brows arching for a moment in surprise before lowering in accusation.
"Are you crying?" One Irish voice asked, a hint of shock edging his words.
"Shut up!" The Mexican voice responded. "Its just, you're being all fucking serious and shit!"
Laughter suddenly ripped through the two Irish men, sending them doubling over and needing to use each other for support. The third man's hands came up quickly to rub angrily at his face, even if he was now grinning despite being the subject of the mocking.
"Fuck you, you guys are assholes." He muttered a final time.
A hand came out, patting the irritated Mexican's shoulder, one Irish men, the shorter of the two bobbing his lighter softly spiked head near his ear. They were up, the moment over and the action ready to be started. The Irish man grinned as he spoke to their riled up friend.
"Don't worry Romeo, we shan't be telling a soul that yer a little girl!" The Irish broke into fit of roaring laughter, scooping down to lift up the duffel bags, hearts now lightened before as they prepared to do their work.
"You mick mother fuckers are so going to get it!"
A laugh left them again as the Mexican jumped to his feet to chase after them, fumbling over himself to grab his own duffel bag and peeling a brightly colored gun from it and slipping it into his own shoulder holster, laughing to himself and glad to see the two brothers could still find humor. As long as they had humor, they were still safe, still had hope.
For now, the Saints were coming...
"Somethin's not fuckin' right about this." Murphy remained crouched in the bushes outside the mansion, hands fumbling with his gun, checking and double checking that each part was still clean and ready to properly work. "This is supposed ta be one of the big guy's houses and there's not a fucking guard that we can see? Not even a fuckin' poodle to piss its self if we get too close. It ain't right."
Connor had to admit that he was thinking the same thing as he peeked over one of the hedges. The air was cool on his features as they long since realized the need for them to wear masks was past. You don't shoot a mob boss mask-less at his own trail and figure you can get away with no one knowing who you are. His blues surveyed what they could see of the yard and there wasn't a body, a gun, or as Murphy so delicately put it, a poodle to piss on its self. His gaze then moved up to the windows. One light on. It must have been where Nicholas Yakavetta doing his nightly hooker.
"Ah, they probably think we're all dead or in prison after what happened at that damn greenhouse." Romeo muttered, screwing a silencer on to the end of his pistol's barrel. "Ain't no normal fucker can survive a shit storm like that."
"Aye, but they know we ain't no normal fuckers." Murphy answered, now looking up towards Connor that had remained pretty silent since they'd gotten here to basically find the front door open for them. It could only mean one of two things. He had the same idea of something being wrong and wanting to wait, or he was trying to think up a plan. Murphy really hoped it was the first option.
"They knew that ta fuckin first time and they still dragged us back here." Connor finally answered, and it was easy to detect the heavy though in his voice.
"Yea, but I still think that somethin' ain't right here." Murphy muttered to himself, checking the silencer of his gun once more, almost a nervous habit. "So what ya' thinkin', Con? We go in or we go out?"
There was silence that settled over the trio, even Romeo finding it in himself to hold his breath. When it came down to it, this was the brother's rodeo and he only rode in it. He went by what they said, what they wanted, even if he was itching to shoot some of the spaghetti sucking assholes that had tried to hard to kill all of them and succeeding in taking three of their team down. He looked between the teams, eyes wide as he waited for one or the other to speak and felt the nerves rising in him until his silence could no longer be held.
"I say we take the chance they're fucking giving us!" he blurted out. "Just march up there, kick the fucking door in, pop pop pop, take those fuckers out. Let them know we ain't dead and that they didn't win. Just really fucking drive it home!"
Connor cracked a smile even as he continued to watch the light on in the upstairs room. One shadow. All he could make out was one shadow. Maybe Romeo was right for once and these bastards really did believe that they had gained the upper hand, that they were all holed up some where with rotting injuries and of no threat anymore. They couldn't believe jail. That would have been all over the news. But dead? Dead was a good possibility. They'd left Louie's crumbled palace looking like Armageddon had happened.
"He's got a point Murph. I can only see one shadow up there. I think they really are being this fuckin' dumb." He finally sunk back down behind the bush and sighed heavily.
"Then what ya fuckin' sighing 'bout?" His brother asked in return. "If ya thinks its gonna be that fuckin' easy then why don't we just get it done and get home before they fuckin wise up and get a fuckin army here?"
"Eh, I don't know. It just seems kinda, plain. I wish we could do somethin more...creative." Connor now had that distant look in his eyes as he rubbed at his chin, mind ticking away as he started to try and piece together some plan that he had in his mind.
"Oh no!" Murphy jumped in right away, ready to put a stop to his brother's scheming. "Every time we do one of ya fuckin movie based plans something fuckin goes wrong and we gotta scramble to save our asses! For once, let's just do it the fuckin easy way while we got the chance!"
Connor hunkered down beneath the bush, lips pushing out in what appeared for a moment to almost be a pout. It was apparent that he didn't like the idea of having one his beloved plans squashed so easily. He reached a hand down to the collar of his shirt and slipped the rosary out, peering at it in dark, only the light of the upstairs room glinting off the metal loop around the apex of the cross. Finally a sigh left the smaller of the brother's lips.
"Fine, ya win Murph. We'll just kick the fuckin door open and go in blazin like a couple 'o cowboys." He agreed in an tone that showed he was not in the least bit happy with having to do things this way. He brought the cross up to his lips and kissed it gently. Nodding towards it before dropping it and glancing towards his two companions before raising his gun up beside his face and offering his brother a lop sided grin. "Shall we?"
Romeo reached out and slapped a hand firmly to the ground, letting out the sharp sound of flesh against pavement, his hoot resounding after it. Biting his lower lip, he pointed sharply at both of them.
"Now that's what I'm fucking talking about!" He exclaimed, voice low but still laced with excitement. "Let's get in there and take out that fucking asshole for thinking he can fuck us over!"
Murphy raised a hand and brought it up to clap around the back of Romeo's neck, grinning broadly. Fingers clasping tightly, he offered the Mexican man a good shake and a beaming smile. Neither Irish man wanted to admit it, but the fact the fact that Romeo was still at their side was a relief. The twins had this in their blood, and in a way it made them strangely untouchable. But too many of their friends that had taken up their fight with them had found an earlier trip to their end. Both brothers smiled at him.
"Well fuckin said Romeo." Murphy chuckled, before yanking his hand back to pull free his own rosary, kissing it gently and nodding. "Then let's fuckin go."
The three rose, all business now. Their faces were serious as they strode across the dark yard towards the front door. Nicholas Yakavetta was next in line to take over the Italian racket in South Boston, destined to following in the foot steps of the one the boys had affectionately come to know as the 'Panic Room Pussy'. The idea was to strike again fast at those that had banded together to try and kill their entire family, the ones that had taken both their best friends Rocco and Greenly's lives and then moved farther yet to take the life of their father. Here, in this house, the trio was moving in to take out the last of the heads of the Italian mob, to make killing the wriggling body of the snake in South Boston all that much easier.
It was suppose to be easy. In and out. Kick open the door, round 'em up and shoot 'em down cowboy. There was no flashy plan, no little tricks learned from movies or television. An easy job, easier then any they'd pulled yet. The door opened easily enough, swinging open from one kick without even too much of a bang, allowing them to charge in. What they were greeted with changed the whole plan, guns pointed straight at their faces.
A set up.
Eight angry Italians with revenge in their eyes. The three paused just inside the doorway, eyes going wide. The sound of hammers being pulled back danced across the room in a chorus of clicks. There was only a moment for reaction. Guns came up, Romeo shouting out only one phrase before anything started.
"Jesus fucking Christ!"
Then the bullets started flying from both sides of the room. The trio dove to opposite sides of the room. Murphy dove to the right, Connor to the left and Romeo yanked back, leaping over Murphy to dive deeper into the room, shooting even as his body was still in midair. Bullets pinged off walls and furniture, the room breaking into pure chaos. True to form and legend, the flying ammo seemed to miss the trio. But three of the eight Italians went down, blood bursting from their newly adorned holes.
Connor scooted back behind an easy chair even as bullets from the remaining five Italians started to chew up the fabric, sending stuffing snowing into the air. Panic flared in his blue eyes as he looked over towards the air that his brother and Romeo had launched themselves in time to seem them scramble for cover. Their guns still blazed as he haphazardly loaded his own.
"Real fuckin' easy!" He bellowed back towards them, angry only in his voice, as he snapped the new magazine into place. "Just go in, no plan, no cover! Real fuckin brilliant!"
"Just shut ta fuck up and keep shooting!" Murphy shouted back, popping up from behind a chair to start firing back at the mass at the same time Connor surfaced. Three more Italians fell, life source forming a pool beneath their cooling bodies. Romeo was laid out beneath a coffee table, bullets tearing at the knees of those that still remained standing. The rest fell, giving the twins enough time to bury the killing bullets into their heads. All at once the gun fire ceased, but still the boys took their time, waiting to see if another group would wave in. When things remained calm, they finally managed to sneak out from behind their hiding spots.
"What the fuck was that?" Romeo shouted, spinning in a fast circle before kicking at one of legs of the dead men. "A fucking army just waiting in the fucking dark for us? How the fuck did they know we were coming?"
Connor surveyed the damage, a hand coming up to wipe along his face. His eyes had taken on a different appearance now that the game was on. For a moment though he stopped, a wide grin breaking out across his face. He turned towards the other two and chuckled.
"Well, we sure seemed ta deal with them easy enough." He shrugged, looking around. "So what do you say we go upstairs and take out the the next Don and send these wops scrambling?"
Murphy couldn't help but roll his eyes and raised a hand up to cuff his brother hard in the back of the head before shoving him a bit. "Wasn't it just you cowerin' behind tha chair all 'its was suppose ta be easy!'?"
The reaction was immediate, Connor leaping back towards him with a shove of his own, eyes wide in humor now, not seeming in the least that they were in the middle of nothing short of a death room. Romeo could only watch with an impatient roll of his eyes.
"Crazy fucking micks."
The sound of the gun blast was deafening and damn near terrifying as it seemed to blast through the hollow between the wrestling boys. They both dove, one right and one left again, hitting the ground hard and seeking out a visual of the other to insure the bullet that seemed to come from no where had done no damage.
"What tha fuck was that?" Connor shouted already preparing to pop back up out of his spot behind the couch when he heard the shallow wheezing that he'd long since accompanied with a fatal bullet wound. His blue eyes roamed over the pile of bodies, catching the trembling hand of the Italian man that had held the gun. "Murphy, Romeo, are ya two alright?"
It was Romeo's voice that reached Connor as he strode over to the gasping mobster. The man was using his last bit of strength, wheezing each breath out as the intake came out with a whistle, blood bubbling from the hole that led into one lung.
"Murphy was fucking hit, man!" The Mexican chattered back, panic in his tone. It didn't ease Connor's mind but he knew one thing, Romeo was a panicky sort. Always talking quick and on edge. So much like Rocco that the boys hadn't been able to turn him away, though they'd razzed him good the first time he begged to be in the all boys club.
"Is he fuckin alright Romeo?" He snapped back, kicking the gun from the man's hand and kneeling down beside him. This Italian was heavy set with a balding head yet a thick dark growth covering his chin. Blood streamed from one corner of his lips and stained his teeth almost a shade of orange as he sneered back at the Irish man that was now kneeling to deliver him into the arms of hell.
"I'm fine." It was Murphy that answered, easing his brother's thoughts as the gun barrel pressed firmly against the chest of the dying man. "Its just my shoulder."
"He's bleeding bad though man. I don't know if we should fucking go up there. If there's another ambush we might not fucking make it." Even though Connor couldn't see him, he knew Romeo was scrubbing at the shaved sides of his head before his hands would find their way to press against Murphy's shoulder.
As much as either brother hated to admit it, Romeo had a point. They'd come this far, but neither wanted to loose the other in something as simple as a ego driven fuck up. Which was exactly what this was. They should have been more careful, but the fact that always seemed to come out on top of any of the odds had inflated them enough to make their mistakes all that more dangerous.
"Is there another group of ya bastards waitin' for us upstairs?" Connor asked the man gasping at his knees, not figuring his answer would be true unless he was given the chance at life. The one thing these people had always shown the brothers to be true was that when faced with life or death, they would sell their own upstream simply for a few more wretched moments of breath. "Answer smart boy, and there may be a life for ya after all."
The nameless Italian smiled, a gruesome showing of teeth coated in slimy layers of crimson as though he'd actually been sucking on the life stream of another. But he made no move, not with Connor's gun pressing against a kill spot, ready to take him to his end.
"Its...just us..." He rasped out finally. "This last one...last Yakavetta...he makes us sit in the dark...night after night...waiting for you Saints. Waiting to die...and he...he ain't even here...it was all...a set up...Don't kill me, I've got a family..."
Connor nodded, knowing the man's rasping was too low for the other two to hear, and now he could pick up the pained sounds that came from his brother. His teeth clenched. He didn't go back on his word, and this man had told him what he wanted to hear. But still, he'd attempted to take the one family member that Connor had left, and that was a fact that could not be forgiven.
"They will meet ya one day should God choose ta have mercy on yer soul." He whispered to the man who seemed to gather what was happening right away and tried to lurch up from his spot, bloody spittle flying from his mouth as the silenced gun went off, hissing the bullet into his chest as he slumped down. "Romeo, get Murph outta here. I will see ta the clean up. Buddy boy here says twas all a set up. The fox isn't even here. Get him ta the hotel and clean him up. I'll meet ya there once the blood is cleaned up."
There was a shuffling sound that he knew was the smaller man getting his lanky brother to his feet. There was little argument. After Greenly had been taken and the boys' father, their third member had learned not to question the boys' call. Only they could argue with each other when things became this serious. And right now he knew the idea that was Connor's head was one of pure fear should his brother not start getting help right away. What made it only worse was the woozy Murphy's inability to argue back.
"Connor, no." The drowsiness in Murphy's tone told Connor two things. One, the mexican was doing right and getting him closer to the doorway and out, and two, there was going to be a fight over this. "Ya ain't stayin like some kinda fuckin' hero. We all go in or none go in."
Connor finally turned and pulled a small spray bottle from his pocket. He forced an easy grin, knowing it wasn't easy to pull one over on his brother. But he had to try. Truth be told, the man was still on edge from watching his father die, and now seeing his brother soaked in his own blood brought the fear of loosing him as well rolling up to the surface in waves that were almost nauseating.
"I got ta get rid of yer blood less you want the cops knocking at yer door. Ya know we don't have much help left with ta boys in blue and its mighty hard ta clean up after ya when yer still drippin' on the fuckin' floor."
There was a pause while Murphy seemed to weigh out what Connor was saying. The death of their father pressed down on both the boys the same way and made it hard for either to want to loose sight of the other for even a short moment. But Connor's words rang true. They had to neutralize the blood trail with Smecker and Bloom gone for the moment and the longer and more blood he poured out onto the hardwood, the better chance of another fuck up they had.
"Alright, but hurry it tha fuck up. This hurts like fuckin' hell and I don't want ta be standing out in the cold all night." Murphy finally conceded and allowed Romeo to usher him outside.
Connor raised a hand, shoving it through his hair as he looked at the scattered bodies. Not something they hadn't done before, but this time they hadn't been expecting it. Though something was gnawing at the back of his mind, like a small fact that they'd forgotten or hadn't picked up on. Still, he set about to cleaning, spraying his brother's blood tracks with the fine mist of ammonia.
"Fuckin' eight of them." He muttered to himself as he worked. "Like we're fuckin' Superman or somethin'. We only wanted the one bastard we thought was upstairs, not the whole lower..."
That's when it hit him, the something that was wrong. As they'd walked up, the shadow. It had been moving still in the upstairs window. Not one of the wise guys down here. They wouldn't have been fast enough to make it down here with a warning. And there had been no warning. That was easy enough to tell by the shocked pause when they'd kicked in the door. Anyone that had a warning to their coming would have been shooting before the splinters of the door hit the ground. That meant there was still one Italian milling around the house.
"Oh fuckin hell!" He barked, pushing to his feet with sudden realization that he was now alone in the house with whatever wop would want revenge for the group that had been fallen already. But before he could make it fully to his feet, something cracked against the back of his head, a splitting pain roaring through to encompass the entirety of his skull and bring him down, slumping in his brother's blood on the floor as darkness gripped him, giving him only the finally words spoken in a thick Italian accent.
"Take him out the back and then finish it."
Murphy leaned heavy on Romeo's shoulder just at the end of the driveway. They were out of sight of the neighbors, but still with a clear view of the house. Despite the waves of pain and dizziness that was washing over him, something was gnawing at his stomach, making him uneasy and jittery, something not normal for the taller of the brothers.
"He's got ten more fuckin minutes and then I'm going in there and draggin him the fuck out myself." he muttered, pushing off Romeo and squaring off his shoulders with a pained grunt, ready to make good on his threat.
"Easy there killer, I'm sure he's fine. You left a lot of fucking blood in there and he's gotta clean it up or some CSI sort of shit." Romeo was already searching his pocket for a pack of cigarettes, unwilling to admit to the agitated Irish man that he was uneasy as well, instead offering him a cigarette as well.
Murphy snagged the thin stick, shoving it between his lips enough to catch a glimpse of the tattoo there. His hands searched for his lighter as he glanced up at the house one last time. It was too much, too long. Ten minutes was enough time for the bastard to be in there on his own.
"Fuck it, I'm gonna get his ass." he grumbled, flicking the flint to light up the tip of the cigarette as he took a step back up towards the house, Romeo already moving to chase after him.
And then it happened. It was so sudden that at first neither man was sure it really had occurred. The house that had once been standing before them, full of the bodies of eight dead Italian mobsters seemed to go deadly silent before pushing out with an explosion that rocketed such force, it seemed almost to have no sound. Shock waves crashed out, knocking Murphy and Romeo back off their feet. It wasn't until their bodies hit the ground that sound finally caught up, roaring over them with a matching heat from the fire, tearing at their very flesh and head like a living being. There was a scream, and at first Murphy thought it was from Romeo. He didn't realize it was his own choked cries.
"Connor!" Now his brain caught up with his own screeching, struggling and flopping on the ground in a dazed manner. The wound on his shoulder had torn more, opening another stream of blood on the pavement that he wasn't even aware of. All he knew was that his brother had been in the house that was now raining debris on the neighborhood, the shattered frame licking with fire. "God, no! Connor!"
Romeo's arms where there, grabbing at him even as the distant sound of fire sirens seemed to come from no where, creeping up closer on the duo that was trying to make an escape. Romeo fought with the tearing Irish man, knowing that they could not be caught here. Still Murphy struggled back with a vengeance, screaming as unknown tears tracked down his face, rosary beads bouncing against his chest as their friend started to drag him off. Murph was near hysterics, sure his brother had been caught in that explosion, so much so that the bright light of the fire never seemed to leave his eyes, even as Romeo managed to carry him off from the scene.
All Murphy could see was the spot his brother had just been, consumed by the very fires of hell.
"Connor!"
-And there you have it, chapter one. I hope you like it. Click the button and review! Tell me what you think I'm hoping to have another update out very shortly! 3