ASHLEY'S POV:

I pushed the sleeves of my plain black long-sleeve shirt back and adjusted my black sunglasses. Nick, wearing the same beside me, offered me a cigarette out of the small pack in his hands. I took one gratefully and we began our procession down the street.

People walked every-which-way, bustling with news about the latest clique scandal, or the newest and strangest designs to hit the runways. We both ignored them, shoving our hands into the pockets of our black P-coats as we sauntered carelessly down the sidewalk, heading toward the place we had arranged to do the killing. People occasionally cast us odd glances, but otherwise left us alone.

Nick was short (though the same size as me), blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and also my twin brother. Despite the shocking similarities in our genes, I had grown into hazel eyes rimmed with a streak of emerald as well as long, dark-colored hair.

Only a few short days ago, we had a religious experience, whose side effects were things like taking more notice in the bad guys of Boston, killing said bad guys, and being overall badasses.

We stole across the plaza, glancing around anxiously from under the cover of our dark shades. As we shadily entered the elevator, I felt every tattoo I had get warmer, as if God reassuring me that my new occupation was worthwhile. When the door closed and the elevator was between floors, Nick pressed the stop button.

I kneeled down to the bag I had been carrying with me, digging through it for my guns. Nick did the same and we both slid on masks and gloves. I stood and turned to Nick. He was holding a length of thick, black rope out to me.

I rolled my eyes. "You and yer fuckin' rope."

He held his hands out for me to slide my foot into and hoisted me up into the top of the elevator. Five minutes later, we were crawling around through the hot, enclosed vents of Copley Plaza hotel, desperately lost due to the randomly hand-picked turns Nick was executing on gut-instinct (which he had very little of).

I lifted my mask a little bit and crawled up beside him, forcing both of us to turn on our side so there would be enough room for us without dying. "Where the fuck are ya goin'?" I growled quietly, hoping we wouldn't be heard by any of the Russian mobsters below.

"I'm figurin' some shit out here, get a fuckin' hold of yerself," Nick snarled quietly, brandishing his flashlight at me.

I made a face at him. "Fuck you! I'm sweatin' my ass off draggin' yer stupid rope around. It must weight thirty pounds."

Nick turned to me, a deadly gleam in his eyes. "This is some serious shit! I mean it, get a fuckin' hold of yerself!"

I dropped my rope beside me. "Fuck you! I'm not the rope totin' Charlie Bronson wanna-be that's gettin' us fuckin' lost!"

A small second elapsed before Nick raised his flashlight to tap me hard on the forehead. Another small second, and I was throwing my arms wildly around, hoping I got a solid hit in. We tussled around, strewing rope all around us, entangling ourselves within it as we fought, when the shaft creaked. We stopped, stock-still.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Nick panted, holding onto the sides of the vent.

I squeezed my eyes closed, aware that we had moved around quite a bit inside the small space and had probably knocked loose a piece of the vent's support (a vital piece, knowing our luck). "Holy shit," I said, trying to catch my breath.

Then the vent came crashing through the ceiling, straight onto the head of Yuri Petrova, the ring leader of the Russian mob. We were falling downward upside down as the ceiling crumbled over Petrova's head. Then we were jerked to a halt. The rope that had been tangled around us had been caught on something inside the vent and kept us suspended in midair.

The Russians around us were too shocked to do anything as we quickly grabbed our guns out of the holsters under our arms. We shot out blindly, confused by the suddenness of our own attack and disoriented by our obviously lack of uprightedness. By some crazy miracle, we hit every target, leaving only Petrova to be dealt with.

I pulled the hunting knife from my belt and brought it up to the rope, cutting it and dropping us onto the floor below. Nick and I were up in a second, throwing a quick glance around the wasted room and then hauling Petrova up to his knees where he had originally been in the fetal position.

We simultaneously pulled our rosaries out of our shirts and put our guns to the back of his head. As I looked down at the back of Petrova's head, I caught a glimpse of my hand. Tattooed across my right hand's finger and most of the top of my hand was the Latin word "Aequitas" which meant "Equality". Nick had gotten tattooed in the same place with "Veritas" which was Latin for "Truth".

As if on cue, Nick and I said our family's prayer at the same time. "And shepherds we shall be, for Thee, my Lord, for Thee. Power hath descended forth from Thy hand. That our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command. And we shall flow a river forth to Thee. And teeming with souls shall it ever be. In nomine patris et fili," we cocked our guns. "et spiritus sancti." We pulled the trigger at the same time, sending two bullets propelling through Yuri Petrova's skull.

Mission accomplished.

Oo0oO

Everyone knew that something weird was up with Nick and Ashley. The whole school was buzzing about the newest loons to hit the halls. They had apparently had some kind of an over dosage on Boondock Saints video footage, but no one knew it.

All they knew was that the way the two seemed to have everything they did so well-thought out and rehearsed, simultaneously executing their movements or speaking with an Irish accent was setting the student body on edge.

The two used to speak normally. Now they talked with an Irish accent and occasionally broke out into other languages (some weren't even Irish).

They had stopped being themselves. They had begun to wear black long sleeve cotton shirts and black P-coats, donning shades even inside the high school building.

They had even tattooed the words "Aequitas" and "Veritas" on their hands. At first, everyone had thought they had merely written the foreign words down in sharpie or pen, but upon further inspection, saw that the words were etched into their skin.

They didn't seem to know what was going on half the time they were in school, walking through the halls as thought on a mission from God, rather than being forced into an environment by the government.

Today, the two strolled smoothly through the hallway, a candy stick in each of their mouths. A few students stared, still not used to the weirdness surrounding the two who now called themselves "twins". A few people caught a glimpse of the box in Nick's pocket that had Spiderman on it, proclaiming the white sticks in their mouth to be harmless concentrated sugar.

Today was a bit different, however. Today, as they past other scholars in the hallway, they were able to catch sight of the bright blue and yellow plastic of water guns under the P-coats they wore.

A few groaned, a few rolled their eyes with a sigh, and a few just waited and watched for the next display of mental illness. They watched, fascinated, as the two walked right into the janitors closet at the end of the hall, seeming to take no notice of the oddness of their destination, closing the door slowly as they faced the hall as thought they were in an elevator.

A few people looked terrified. What on earth were they doing in there? They hesitantly put their ears to the door, listening hard for anything. They heard zipping, but the noise went on for too long to be pants… They were taking something out of their bags.

Then they heard Ashley say, "You and yer fuckin' rope."

What kind of things were they doing?

The bell rang, signaling the start of class and the few people left in the hall scurried behind rapidly closing doors. Only 5 minutes later, Coach Klaus's class was sitting quietly, working on yet another vocabulary worksheet. Coach Klaus himself was wondering where Ashley was as he marked absences on his attendance sheet.

A large crash sounded and down through the roof fell Ashley, Nick, and a large, thick bundle of rope that held them inches from the ground. They spun in an upside-down circle, whipping out the plastic guns as Coach Klaus stood from his desk, alarmed at the sudden commotion.

They pulled the triggers as they spun, releasing cold streams of water from the ends of the guns.

The expressions of the classroom ranged from shock, to amusement, to horror, to incredulity. But all had one thing in common: the water wiping everything from their faces and leaving only dry (well, figuratively dry) looks that stated clearly what everyone wanted to yell. "What the fuck?"

Ashley pulled a pocket knife out of her belt and began to saw through the rope, releasing them as they fell to the ground.

The students watched, confused, as they stood and grabbed Coach Klaus's shoulders, pushing him until he was on his knees facing the front. He was too shocked to say anything or do anything to struggle against them. He just sat as they both pointed their water guns to the back of his head and recited a prayer at the same time that had the entire class wondering if they were making this up and had rehearsed this or whether the had the ability to communicate telekinetically.

At the end of their prayer, they pulled the triggers on their guns, wetting the back of Coach Klaus's head. The cold water ran down the back of his neck, freezing him, but he didn't do anything but stay seated on his knees in the middle of the classroom with a shocked expression.

The bell rang then. The whole class hesitated for only a second, then stood slowly and gathered their things, leaving after Nick and Ashley had exited the room. They watched as the two crouched down and scampered from one side of the hall to the other, hiding behind trash cans and lockers, and shooting at people with their now empty water guns, but using child-like sound effects to make up for their lack of ammunition.

"Those two are completely insane!" some kid yelled near the back of the crowd. Everyone nodded and gave him mumbled noises of agreement before heading off to their next class.

Maybe something more interesting would happen in there…. Unlikely.

Made totally for fun (and my friend Nick) so please don't post reviews talking about how stupid this is. Trust me... I know :P