DO NOT OWN! They boys show up in the next chapter. And THANK YOU to my one reviewer!

CHAPTER 2: Narrator

The crowd was insane. The Dropkick Murphy's were blasting over the box-fresh sub-woofers Nick Flynn had just bought. The Departed had started some kind of fire in Boston's underground. People were fighting in the streets, drinking up a storm. Meegan couldn't tell if it was a celebration or a revolution. She didn't care. She was making loads of money. People bet on her five to one over every opponent. Almost killing Bridget Kelly put her in a bar basement ring every other night. In Wall Street terms; Good Friday's fall quarter was predicted to be her highest earnings yet.

She stood in the steep stairway wearing a hood waiting for Nick to play her entrance song. From where she was she could see a sliver of the crowd. There were a lot of young people in the audience this time and lined the ring along with the usuals. And there were a few people on the wall she KNEW were mafia; it's an attitude. It looked like a dance party, or riot around the ring. There was dust in the air from the dirt floor, smoke from cigarettes and cigars, and a haze of sweat. Everything was building like a perfect storm. 'I'm Shipping Up to Boston' ended and Nick, cigarette hanging from his mouth and his dark green shirt half open, started playing Molly Kildare's entrance song, 'Back In Black'.

Meegan smiled. The entire bar shook with movement. This was going to be a fuck of a fight. Molly was tall, meaning she had a longer reach, therefore, a huge advantage. Molly jumped around in the ring and screamed for the crowd to love her and they did. Molly with her crooked nose, yellow mouth guard and green gloves branded with clovers. Meegan looked at her own gloves in the near dark of the staircase, and started thinking what she would scream.

That was when Nick clicked his keyboard to play Buckcherry. Meegan waited through the first tones of 'Crazy Bitch' before bursting through the door. The crowd erupted in screams and whistles and chants of 'Friday, Friday, Friday!' Nick could barely be heard over the crowd and Buckcherry saying "Welcome back your champion Meegan 'Good Friday' McLeod!"

When Friday was finally climbed the ropes into the ring she pulled off the hooded sweatshirt she was wearing, revealing black hair, ivory white skin pulled tight over muscles and her light, light blue eyes. Friday threw the sweatshirt into the crowd and she noticed the man. The man who knew her father. But right now she wasn't Meegan. She was Friday.

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up!" Everyone got quiet quick as she paced in a circle around Molly. Nick turned down 'Crazy Bitch' and everyone looked to Friday. "Does anybody know what day it is?" She yelled to the dingy sea of men and few women.

"FRIDAY!" It was Tuesday.

"Who wants to see me KILL MOLLY?" There was a thunderous roar from the crowd. Behind Meegan Molly's eyes grew wide. The house shook with voices, music, stomping, applause. The basement had never been so full. Molly felt sick. 'Everlong' started playing and Friday turned on her victim. Everyone knew that was what was happening. There was a victim and an assailant in every Good Friday match.

The music played through the whole match.

The match was four songs long.

Molly managed to knock Friday on her ass twice, but Friday was faster, had more combination hits and something else. Her x-factor, whatever it was, was destructive beyond reason. Seventeen minutes in it was an official KO and Molly was rushed out by her friends as they took out her mouth guard and took off her gloves. That probably meant they were going to the hospital, but there was no way to explain what happened to her other than she spent seventeen minutes in the ring with a monster. Meegan felt bad about it, but Friday growled in approval.

She ran up the stairs and busted into the alley to breathe October air. She hoped that man from a few weeks ago showed up. She had a dream about him two nights ago… Meegan stood with the man on the floor of the Sistine Chapel.

"Meegan," he said quietly, seeming more like an old man, like he was close to death. Her face turned to him and her eyes opened slowly. She felt so much like a child. "Look up Meegan." She looked up at Michelangelo's ceiling and saw herself in Adam's place, her fingers reaching out instead. She gasped, reaching her arm upwards. Her eyes lit up with laughter, like it wasn't real, but there it was. "Look at me Meegan." The man instructed again, but this time when she looked at him he was glowing a soft, warm light. He took her in his arms. Whispered in her ear. "Meegan McLeod, you have been touched by God."

POP POP POP! Pulled her out of her memory. 'Gunshots!' Meegan thought frantically. Against instinct she ran to see where they were coming from. Rounding the side of the bar where a pair of legs was sticking out of the garbage pile and another man ran down the street at full speed.

"Stop! Hey, hey! STOP!" She screamed after the man running away.

"No." Breathed the man in the garbage pile. "Come here Meegan McLeod, daughter of Neil McLeod and Bridget Dooley, sister of Liam McLeod. I need to give you this." It was him. It was the man that knew her father, and he was holding out a wooden rosary with a Celtic cross on the end of it.

"Wait, wait," she said, picking him up the best she could and moving him to the sidewalk. "Save your breath. I'll have Nick call an ambulance, okay?" As he laid out she could see he was shot through the heart and not just once. He should have been dead already.

"My God," she whispered, saying His name for the first time in years. Then she did the sign of the cross, remembering the motion like her mother's voice. When she finished the cross he put the rosary on her neck, put his hand on her bowed head and said:

"For thee, my Lord, for thee.

Power hath descended forth from Thy hand

Our feet may swiftly carry out Thy commands.

So we shall flow a river forth to Thee

And teeming with souls shall it ever be.

In Nomeni Patri Et Fili Spiritus Sancti."

"Find my sons."