A/U: Hey guys. Thanks for the reviews. They make my heart flutter3 Hoho. Anyways. Sorry about being shitty at updating. And for my bad spelling^_^. I'm using a dictionary, but it doesn't seem to help. Mohahaha.
Madreloca: It's would seem that you will have to put your tattoo on hold;).
Disclaimer: Don't own. Yadayadayada. But then again. Troy Duffy dosen't own them either, as he sold the rights to the first movie. So there ya go!
Will be even worse at updating as I am moving atm.
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Everything was blurry. His eyes seemed clouded. He shook his head, trying to make out what he was seeing, without success. Where was he? What was going on?
Suddenly he was standing in front of three men. One was on his knees. The two others where standing over him, guns in hand, poiting at the back of the kneeling mans head. They were saying something. Ranting perhaps. He could not make out the words. He could not even make out their faces.
The only thing he could see clearly was the fear in the eyes of the man on the ground. Two guns went of at once. Somewhat muffled, though. The man slumped forward. His body twisting slightly as death grabbed hold of him.
One of the men kneeled before him. He found himself on his knees as well. Like he did not have a choice. Two coins where presented and put in the eyes of the dead man in front of him.
He lifted his head for a moment, not wanting to see. His eyes widened as he did. Three men were entering the room. Guns drawn. He wanted to scream at the two in front of him. The shooters. Somehow he knew, that they where the good once.
He screamed, but no sound came.
Luckely it seemed as though the two men had heard the others, or felt their presence. As they simultaneously turned around, guns drawn.
Bullets where flying. He was standing in the middle of it. He could not move, it seemed. Shock on his face. Though no-one seemed to notice. No-one seemed to notice him. Not even the bullets, flying through him.
He saw the blond one of the two scream something at the other, pointing to another door. The darker haired nodded. Then he ran, guns still firing behind him.
He wanted to follow. Make sure that this man was alright. But something kept him there, in the room.
Suddenly he lurched forward. Pain ripping through his shoulder. He looked down and saw blood seeping out. He looked behind him, and saw that the other man with one arm hanging limply at his side.
It was then it occured to him. He was that man.
He could not leave himself. He had to follow.
The next parts where even more blurried. Climbing out a window. Feeling another bullet mutelate his body as he climbed the fire-escape.
Running.
Falling to the ground. Something dripping down his face.
Running.
Then darkness.
Somewhere in a shitty apartment Connor screamed as his body tossed in bed. Confused eyes opened and met with another pair of blue eyes.
"S alright Conn, ye'r home".
He closed his eyes for a moment, taking in a shaky breath.
Connor lifted one arm and landed it on his brothers shoulder. At once feeling the other mans hand on his.
"Fuck", he said after a while. "Thought I'd died and gone ta hell".
Murphy snorted. The quickly grabbed the sigarett that almost fell from behin his ear.
Connor did not respond. Before he knew it, he was fast asleep. Giving his beaten body just what it needed. This time he dreamt of whiskey and pizza. Of a hairy man, looking kinda like Jesus, and a cat being shot to bloody hell.