Disclaimer: Never happened...never will, I don't own anything or anyone...and all that fun jazz
The Renegade Saints
Chapter 1: The Unexpected Visitor
It was a quiet night for us, the first we'd had in a while. Connor was asleep on the couch, he'd passed out after his drunken display. Murphy was still gulping down whiskey like it was water, stopping every now and then to light up a cigarette. And I was sitting there, uneasily, not quite sure what to do since I'd been dealing death and judgment for a few months now. I sighed as I looked around their small 3-bedroom apartment. It was a mess; old pizza boxes and empty Chinese containers lay strewn about. Empty whiskey bottles covered most of our small dining table from nights spent trying to drown ourselves in alcohol. Murphy set down his now empty bottle with a clink, eyeing my own half full one.
"You keep your hands off of it. This one's mine." I told him, pulling it closer to me.
"Oh c'mon Aid! Jus' a bit? C'mon! I jus want a sip!" He pleaded, his blue eyes boring into my green ones.
"Bullshit! I know your "sip" I'll have none left!" I argued. I'd known these boys my whole life. When my parents died, I was sent to live with my aunt, who lived next to Mrs. McManus, they were best friends, and so, naturally Murphy, Connor and I became best friends as well. The boys were exactly 2 days older than me. I'd known them for almost 28 years. A lot of things had changed in those years, when we turned 18 we set out to America, like we'd always planned. We'd been to America before, but never stayed more than a week. We moved to South Boston, into a mostly Irish neighborhood. That was years ago. I noticed Murphy rub a fading bruise on his arm from a drunken fight he'd had with Connor. We fought a lot, being Irish, Murphy and Connor fighting with fists flying, never drawing blood; just leaving bruises. But it was different when I fought with one of the boys; they never raised a hand to me. They'd shove me, and I'd hit them, but they've never raised a hand, ever.
"I can't do this night off shit. It's just not gunna fuckin work, man. I'm bored to tears!" I said. Connor sat up on the couch, opening his mouth to say something smart, but before he could, the doorknob started to rattle slowly. Before I even had my gun in my hand, Murphy and Connor were standing in front of me, guns drawn, their breath coming quickly. There was a knock at the door. Connor and Murphy stood solidly.
"Oh for Christ's fucking sake, I'll get it then." I said, pushing my way through them. I peered through the peek hole, and found no one.