Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, The Boondock Saints, or any of DC or Troy Duffy's other property. Just the story is mine.
March 15, 2010. 7:21 p.m. Gotham City.
Connor and Murphy MacManus were about to kill someone for the first time in two years. After their vigilante antics had gotten their Dad and two of their friends killed, they resolved to lay down their guns after they escaped from prison. But the events in Gotham could not be ignored. The rise of the so-called "super villains" in recent years and the seeming inability of both the police and Batman to keep them off the streets for more than a few weeks at a time drove The Saints to act once more
They had dressed themselves in black, as usual, and were preparing to enter through the roof. Murphy laughed a little. "Just like old times, eh? You even brought back that stupid fuckin' rope."
"Shut the fuck up, Murph. Don't you remember how many times this "stupid fuckin' rope" has saved our lives?"
"Nah. That's just skill and luck. The fuckin' rope's got nothin' to do with it."
"Oh, well isn't that right, Rambo?" Connor chuckled to himself. "You ready?"
Murphy nodded, and the MacManus twins dropped silently through an open sunroof. They crept along, quickly yet quietly, keeping close to the walls in the darkness. They each drew their paired, silenced Desert Eagles as they neared the door. Connor pulled on his ski mask, and Murph followed suit. He drew in a heavy breath as Connor kicked down the door.
The Saints moved nearly in unison, as if they shared a brain between the two of them. The short, clipped bark of silenced shots rang out as one by one; the Penguin's minions were gunned down. Most of them died before they could even reach their guns, and those who managed to draw were killed before they could fire a single shot. The Penguin himself ran into the next room during the confusion, but The Saints knew where he had gone.
Connor was first into the next room, and saw the Penguin standing in shock, with an umbrella in hand. "Who the fuck are you?" He asked. "Who are you working for?"
Murph looked at him, calmly, and said "We are the vengeful hammer of God."
"And that's all you need to know." Finished Connor.
With a skeptical look on his face, the Penguin brought the umbrella to bear. The Saints just laughed. "Oh, look at this," said Murph. "What're you gonna do?" Before Murph could get in what was clearly going to be a very witty and sarcastic retort, he was cut off by the Penguin firing the gun he had hidden in his umbrella. The bullet grazed Murph's left arm, and Connor fired a shot into the Penguin's leg in response.
"You alright?"
"I'm fuckin' fine." Said Murph, through the pain. "Let's just finish this."
"Right." Replied Connor, before turning to the Penguin and saying, "On your fucking knees!" Obviously frightened, the Penguin complied. He was whispering something incoherent as both Saints placed the barrels of their guns on the back of his head and began to perform their Last Rites.
In unison, they prayed, "And shepherds we shall be, for Thee My Lord, for Thee. Power has 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, et Spiritus Sancti." As they said Amen, twin shots rang out, and the Penguin was no more.
The Saints made The Sign of The Cross and turned the Penguin's corpse on its side. They crossed his arms over his chest, and placed a penny over each eye. They repeated this for each of the men they had killed, and sprayed ammonia on Murph's blood from the shot to his arm. Murph turned to Connor as they left the building and said, "Well, that was fun."