Well, hello all. I was sitting around on Saint Patty's and saw the Boondock Saints playing on Spike TV. My brother liked the movie so I thought, It can't be all that bad. And I fell in love. I now have bought the movie like three weeks ago, the Two-disc unrated edition and it has a special place by the DVD player so I can pop it in whenever I have an urge to watch two hot Irish guys cap some mafie guys. I'm italian so it's kinda fun to watch the stereotypical italians running around. My friend and I decided, of course, to write a fanfic.

DISCLAIMER: Sadly, only Troy owns the Boondock Saints...But I do own the story line, Eira, Niamh, Mary and Yuri. I don't own Viktor because he's a butt monkey and nobody likes him.

Pronunciation of Names: Niamh: NEEV

Eira: AY-rah

Saoirse: SEER-sha

The cool gray evening in Boston brought a sigh of relief from a girl sitting in the passenger seat of an old beat up Ford truck. Actually she was far from a girl. She was of the female persuasion, but she was twenty-two years old. Her dark hair up in a low ponytail away from her sleepy gray eyes. Sitting up straight, her back popped and she gave a slight grunt as a twang reverberated through her spine. Rubbing the side of her face, she leaned over and pressed the heel of her hand against the horn of the Ford. Several people looked toward the truck but only one shouted at her with a string of muffled obscenties. The woman smiled evilly and waited ten seconds before pressing the horn again. The person she was annoying gave a scream and stormed over to the truck a few seconds later. She had unruly curled hair, highlighted brilliant green against the natural burnette and red highlights, her dark amber eyes alive with annoyance at her friend. They sat in the truck for three minutes, the second girl glaring at the first and the first had an idiotic grin on her face. The first then reached over and hit the horn again gaining a smack on the arm from her friend.

"Why?" The second asked the first emphasizing the word with another smack.

"Hehe...you shouldn't suck face in front of people you don't know." The first shot back dodging a third blow.

"You shouldn't draw attention to your ugly self!" The second shouted at the first.

"You shouldn't date a mullet."

"That was one time and you know it was just so I could sit in his Mustang."

"I could've sworn you were about to say ON his Mustang."

"You are disgusting. My gods, Eira, get your mind out of the gutter." Eira laughed and buckled up her seat belt.

"Sure whatever Niamh. I'm the one with my mind in the gutter but you're the one sucking face with a dickhead...does that mean that you were giving him a blowjob?" Niamh stopped midbuckle and looked at Eira. She blinked and buckled herself before turning over the engine.

"I really hate you." was all she muttered before driving off into the heart of Boston.

Three hours later, the truck was parked in front of an old, slightly decrepid hotel and the girls came out of one of the rooms. Eira was dressed in a black and dark red striped low-cut shirt, a pair of hip-hugger jeans and a black wool trenchcoat that stopped the new crisp wind. Niamh was weaing a white tanktop and a low faded black jeans and a bright red wool trenchcoat. They strode down the Boston sidewalk with a stride that made men stare after them and women glare after them. Slowly, the sun dipped behind the horizon and the lights came on. They laughed and talked the entire way. In unison, they turned down Somerset Street and made their way into the crowded bar, Kinsale Irish Pub and Restaurant. Upon entering, they were assaulted by the smell of rich alcohol and stale cigar and cigarette smoke. Niamh coughed and Eira slapped her on the back with a grin before hopping over to the bar and ordering a pint of their darkest lager. Niamh followed but instead bought a bottle of vodka and grabbed a shotglass. The waitress smiled at them and shook her head lightly. They were the only women who had entered the bar all night and now they were going to drink their pants off. Probably in one of the mens, who were watching them intently, bed. Eira and Niamh sat happily chugging their drinks and getting as rowdy over the basketball game as the men. At one bad call, Eira stood up and screamed such an obscenty, that the men turned to look at her then cheered on in agreement. The game ended and the girls paid for their drinks. The bottle of vodka in Niamh's hands as they exited, declining to several mens propositions for a ride home. Walking down the chilled Boston streets in early fall slightly sobered the girls up but they diminished any of that with the bottle of vodka that they passed to each other. Soon, they were lost. Surprise, surprise. They looked for familiar landmarks but being as smashed as they were, they were lucky they were still standing up. I don't say straight (as in standing up straight) because they weren't; whenever they could they were leaning against buildings or each other and when they had nothing to lean against, they walked leaning to the side until they ran into something to hold them up. Which most of the time, it was themselves. After banging their heads together for the tenth time, Eira stopped and took in their surroundings. Not like she'd remember them in the morning but, what the hey. They were next to a dark alley. That was all she could gather before a man ran out of the darkness and grabbed her around the middle. In the process, the man knocked over Niamh, who just lay on the ground. Eira was pretty sure she blacked out but was worried more about herself as the man squeezed her abdomin and the threat of puking washed over her. She hated throwing up, especially alcohol. Two more men ran out of the alley wearing black ski masks and carrying guns.

"Don't shhoot. Imgonna...be sick." Eira slurred out bending over. Before she knew it, the two were chanting some type of prayer and the man was yelling out for someone to come and help him. A sharp crack rang out and the hold on her abdomin, which was holding her up, loosened and she felt a slight splatter on her back. Even though being more sloshed than a frat boy at a party, Eira knew it was blood that splattered on her back and that evenings contents boiled back up. Falling to all fours, Eira emptied her stomach and felt someone pull her hair back. Then she blacked out. The figure holding her hair back gave a yelp of surprise and grabbed her before she landed face first in her own vomit. The first hauled up Eira while the second went to Niamh. Carefully gathering them up, the two figures ran back into the alley way were a third waited for them. Without a word, they went to the end of the alley and put the girls in the back of a car putting them leaning against each other at one end of the car while the first figure slide in next to them. The third figure went to the drivers seat and the second slid into the passenger seat. The cars engine turned over and they drove off away from the dead man, vomit and approaching sirens.

The next afternoon, Eira woke to a splitting headache and an unfamiliar bed. Looking over, she found Niamh sleeping on another bed (actually they were mattresses on a floor) slightly groaning and pressing the heel of her hand against her eyesocket.

"I will never drink vodka again." Eira groaned, slightly wincing at the pain in her head caused by the weariness of her voice.

"Ditto." Niamh whispered. Sitting up, the first thing Eira saw was a pile of dirty clothes...actually piles of dirty clothes strewn around aimlessly and all of hers were still on. Her shoes and socks as well as Niamh's sat at the end of the bed next to their jackets. Eira yawned and rubbed the back of her neck. Something grated against her skin and she looked at her hand. Small flakes of a brown...something had rubbed off on her hand. Then, the nights events replayed, although slightly slow and blurry, in her mind and she felt the wave of nausea again. Running over to the door, she threw it open and sprinted to a nearby bathroom to get sick in. Dry heaving because she had already emptied her stomachs contents earlier, Eira heard some talking and then a cool washcloth press against the back of her neck.

"It'll be alright. Jest calm doon abit." A male voice said with a deep gaelic accent of some sort. "Connor, watch'er while I check on the other girl." The washcloth left and then returned.

"Da's right. Jest calm down. It's jest alittle blood." Eira stopped heaving and sunk down to press her head to the side of the bowl. It was freezing cold and felt as good as the washcloth. "Ye done pukin' now?" the 2nd male voice asked and all Eira could do was nod. The second guy, Conner, gently helped Eira up and walked her over to the rinky-dink table where Niamh sat with a glass of water and bottle of Asprin.

"You're right. No more vodka for you. Actually, I say no more alcohol for you." Eira grunted at Niamh and grabbed the bottle popping four pills in her mouth and washing it down with her water. Eira was about to say something else when her eyes fixed on a mask. Why it hadn't clicked before, she didn't know. But it clicked now and someone flicked the freak-out switch. Eira was up and began to back herself away from the table. There were three men in the room; one was much older than the other two, with gray hair and beard and wise old eyes, the next had a rugged face and dirty blonde hair that was messed up, probably from lack of being combed, the last had a young face but looked just as old as the second, he was rugged with a mole above his lip on the left side, much dark hair adorning his head but both had brilliant blue eyes.

"Is yer friend there looney or what?" the one with dark hair asked watching as she backed up.

"I stopped paying attention after she sent a shrink to the looney bin." Niamh answered laced with dead seriousness.

"You killed that man." Eira said not letting her eyes leave them. The two younger one's eyes grew wide and they held their hands out.

"Please, don't do anythin' rash now." the dirty blonde said as he and the other slowly advanced forward their hands outstreched.

"I wouldn't try to chase her down, three years of soccer and four years of fast pitch will make anyone a decent sprinter." Niamh said (she always adds the most useful bits of information.) not moving from her place, the older man stood behind her as if she tried to make a move, he could stop her. Eira's breath quickened and she glanced around for a way out, still backing up. All she could think was that they were being held captive by these three men for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. There was a door at the other side of the room that had a deadbolt lock on it, so Eira assumed that that was the door out. The men were spaced just far apart she couldn't go through them or around them. She felt her back bump against the wall and she tried to squish into it. The lighter haired of the two gently went forward and went to grab her wrist. Slamming her elbow into his cheek, Eira ducked under him and sprinted around him, dodging his brothers lunge for her. She made it to the table before she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. The old man had moved past her somehow and stood in front of the door . Having no traction on the wood floor and all her momentum going in one direction, Eira ran straight into him and he wrapped her into a deep, bearhug, making it unable for her to move. Eira didn't struggle she just remained in an angry pout as the other two men stumbled over.

"Why didn't ye back meh up?" The lighter haired one smacked the darker haired one.

"I didn't know she was gonna do that!" the other shouted back, lashing out himself. They began to wrestle and mutter obscenties.

"Boys. Please, not infrent of the women." The older man mumbled in the deep gaelic voice that rumbled throught Eira. He set her down next to Niamh, who still hadn't moved. "Please, don't run. We mean ye nor your friend any harm." He looked her in the eyes and Eira stuck out her bottom lip before nodding. She felt like a little kid that got put in time-out. "I must go now, so please. Don't ye harm any o' my sons now bein' the big bad women ye are. I see that bruise comin' in on yer cheek, Connor." The lighter haired one, Conner, gingerly touched his cheek and winced. Then he left. Just like that. Eira sat there for a second, before lunging for the door only to find the old man on the other side. "Don't think about leavin'." he muttered shutting the door and locking it from the outside. Eira went back to the table and sat down, sulking.

"Why haven't you tried to run?" She angerly asked her friend.

"I have a hangover. And besides that I can't run, are you kidding. I'm preparing myself for tomorrow." The obvious brothers looked at each other and Conner scoffed,

"Where do ye think yer goin'?"

"It's Saint Patricks Day, ain't it?" She shot back and the brothers looked at each other.

"Shit, Murph. Whadda we gonna do wit'em?!" Murph, the dark haired brother shrugged.

"I dunno...Why don't we take'em with us, not like they'll go anywhere."

"Nah, Da'll have our hide's if we do..."

"I am not spending Saint Patty's Day sober, thank you very much! One of you go out and buy a crapload of alcohol and a game of Twister and we'll have our own party." Eira looked at her clearly insane friend and practically screamed,

"My gods Niamh! These two kill a man, are holding us prisoners and you want to play fucking Twister with them!"

"If you haven't noticed Eira! We can't help the situation and I'm gonna go out with a bang! It's fucking Saint Patty's day and I wanna get smashed. Throw in a game of Twister and I could really give a flying fuck who we are playing it with and what they did!" Eira opened her mouth to retaliate but it was cut short by Niamh lunging herself on her. They wrestled across the ground, completely forgetting about the brothers, who were laughing their asses off at the two. The two girls stopped mid-tussle and looked at the brothers.

"I feel self-concious, how 'bout you?" Eira asked Niamh from her place on Eira's stomach.

"Oh yeah." Niamh stood and helped her friend up. They took their places at the table again and looked at the men.

"So...Why did you guys kill that man?" Niamh asked looking Conner in the eye.

"Well, ye two have te understand what we do for...what're the words I'm lookin' for Murphy?" Murphy rubbed his bottom lip and shrugged,

"It's not really a livin' but it's a job ain't it." They looked at each other as if prying into each others thoughts.

"So why did you kill that man?" Niamh asked again with a hint of impatience added in.

"We...kinda...kill evil men if you will, to rid the streets of mobsters, pimps and druglords. That man was a mafioso, so we killed'em." Murphy smiled at his brother who squinted his eyes at him as if he was trying to read his brothers mind.

"So...you think your like, superheros or something, 'cause you're killin' evil men?" Eira asked and looked at Niamh. They stared at each other for a second before bursting out laughing.

"That is the most insane thing I've heard yet!" Niamh laughed holding her sides. Conner and Murphy rolled their eyes and Conner muttered

"Bekommen Sie die Handschellen." in German to his brother. His brother shot

"Froh, wenn es sie verschließen wird." back and left the room, returning with a bag. Eira and Niamh were sprawled out across the table, still laughing, until they felt something cold and metal clamp across one wrist each. Then another cold metal bracelet wrapped itself around the other wrists. Their laughing stopped and they looked at their wrists. The jerks had handcuffed them together then to the table they sat at! Eira and Niamh glared at the two who looked very satisfied with themselves.

"Now, we have te go make a phone call, and ye two'll stay right here." Conner smirked pulling on a wool jacket.

"Behave ye two." Murphy gave them a boyish grin before following his brother to the door and locking it as it clicked shut. Eira looked at Niamh who was glaring heavily at her.

"I blame you." Niamh said and Eira's jaw dropped.

"Me! Why me?! I'm not the one who agreed to take the job...before Saint Patty's!" Niamh bit, yes bit, Eira's arm and got thumped by her shoulder.

"Ow! Stupid bobbypins!" Niamh exclaimed. Eira sat waiting for Niamh to figure out what she had just said. "Ohhhh." Niamh sighed and pulled one out with her sort of free hand. Attacking the lock, she sat there for two minutes before it clicked and the wrist released.

"This is way to easy. I feel like we're in the movies...or a story or something." Eira commented and Niamh nodded as she unlocked the other side of the handcuffs.

"I say to be evil, we leave them a note." Niamh announced loudly. Eira stopped and muttered,

"A note?" Niamh nodded gleefully and Eira shrugged, "Sure why not."

Well, that's chapter 1. Please R&R!

Bekommen Sie die Handschellen. means "Get the handcuffs."

Froh, wenn es sie verschließen wird. means "Gladly, if it will shut them up."