The first two were easy, done in three days. Anyone else would have guessed, maybe it was too easy, but that wasn't how Murphy thought. He just went with it, whatever, right up to that fourth day when they planned to take out Richardson. And Murphy was ready.
At least, he thought he was. It was supposed to be just the one guy, not a dozen odd other crazy serial-killer-mobster thugs, too. But that was okay, because Murphy thought he and Connor could handle just about anything.
The firefight was a blur – it really always was, from Murphy's perspective.
But suddenly, it was slow motion – Murphy dove behind a wall, just barely making it out of the way of a bullet.
But Connor wasn't quick enough.
And Murphy stopped just going with it, because it couldn't be real, because Connor couldn't get shot, he was too invincible for that.
And it couldn't be real, because Connor couldn't fall to the ground with a bullet in his stomach.
And it couldn't be real, because Murphy couldn't be holding Connor's head as he gasped for breath, with blood soaking his shirt.
And it couldn't be real, because Smecker couldn't be pulling Murphy away from the scene in retreat, leaving Connor motionless on the floor.
It couldn't be real, because Murphy just couldn't just go with it.
