Roses are Red, Blood is Blue, and Cops kill people like Me, Why Haven't You?
Summery: Murtagh works for a preticularly nasty mob boss. Eragon works for a pretucularly nasty Super Special Agent. Behavoral Analysis. Professional. The FBI. The FORSWARN. When an undercover job goes nasty for the cop and an assasination job goes nasty for the killer will the two boys be able to survive long enough to escape the steel eyes of a mob boss or will morals and bullets get in their way. Two unlikely people thrown into a gang war and a battle of paper, only their wits and true emotions can get them out.
Disclaimer: Don't own any of then. well i own the plot, but im sure its an over used hollwood plot. there's some cameos from characters of over book and movies, which i don't own either, see if you can spot them. Good Luck, and Good Night
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The apartment was above a gaming arcade next to a rail way. In other more forward words, Murtagh would never get any sleep. But it didn't matter, he knew that when he called the landlord. It didn't matter because he didn't sleep much anyway. Anymore.
The gaming lounge had a flickering neon sign above the double glass doors. the neon FLYNN'S bathed the street in a candlelight orange, beeping and dinging and a band like Bruce Springsting filled the empty street every time the glass double doors opened. Murtagh had parked around the back and took exactly the amount of his cigarette to walk to the door. Out front some hobo who looked like someone form Gotham City asked Murtagh for change, he gave him on of his cigarettes. Now Murtagh had never been inside a gamers lounge before, it was not part of his gig. Friends from high school used to try to get him to go to the Realm and play D&D. he refused every time. Sometimes he regretted it. Sometimes he wondered his they were still sitting in that card shop painting like Orcs. Sometimes he hoped they were.
Murtagh pushed his way though the dorky kids with their trading cards and beeping pinball machines, across the maze of machines to the main office where he signed a few papers and took the keys to room 2 from some old dude who looked like he was half stoned. On the way up the stairs Murtagh bumped into a boy with a shirt that read TRON. Murtagh ducked his head and kept walking.
Door number 2 was the only one with a number and it stuck when Murtagh tried to open it. The room inside was just a room and a bathroom. That was it. There was a bed in the corner and a table and a lamp and a folding chair . Murtagh dropped the duffle bag on the bed along with his backpack. That was all of his belongings, a black duffle bag and a backpack he'd had since he was in 7th grade. Murtagh draped his black coat on the back of the chair and started to unpack. He put his toothbrush, soap, Old Spice, toothpaste, and first aid kit in the bathroom, the bottle of pain killers and box of condoms on the night stand that was a TV tray. Murtagh sighed and put the duffle bag under the bed. He needed to get a new phone, he'd already taken apart and disposed of the old one, and he needed to get a plant. But that could wait. Murtagh had a feeling he was going to need a little distraction before getting that new phone and those new responsibilities.
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The club was loud. Loud enough for Murtagh to forget the ache in his shoulder, or the heaviness he missed at his side. Colored strobe lights flashed on the dance floor, beating in time to the music they were playing, it made all the girl with big tits and the guys with rubber pants look like they were part of a flip book. Murtagh's lips burned hot when they touched the cold glass, his eyes surveyed the crowd again, looking for a distraction. She was tall, maybe even tall then him, with thick black hair and a dangerous smile. She had tattoos all up her arms, black designs that Murtagh could care less what they meant. Distraction walked up to the bar and settled in next to him smiling.
"I always liked the boy with the black eye." She told him smiling widely.
"I always liked the girl who liked the boy with the black eye." Murtagh answered smirking lightly.
"Got any scars, hero?" the girl asked taking a drink from Murtagh's glass.
Murtagh took a drink "Only the bad kind."