cross my heart and hope to...
He can taste the blood. But he doesn't dare close his eyes.
Hell, he's been through worse. He glances over at his brother, noting the places his face has been cut and bruised and battered. Could be just another fucking bar fight…but it's not.
Another fist blows against Connor's nose, and he can feel more blood trickle out of his nostril. The sting squeezes his eyes shut for a split second before looking back at the politician. Naturally, Connor can't help but smile, nor the smart-ass comment that falls out of his mouth. "Ye know we can't vote for ye, yeah?"
A slight chuckle escapes Hawkins as he wipes his hands with a handkerchief. Connor feels a weird sense of pride seeing MacManus blood staining the pristine piece of cloth. He attempts to shift in his confined seat, his wrists rubbing against the handcuffs chained to the metal chair.
Hawkins crosses his arms and leans against his desk, a smug smile curling up his mouth. "You have two options. Join Obsidian and you can continue your vigilante lives ridding the world of evil. Or go back to prison."
The boys look at each other with no visible reaction, and they can sense Hawkins growing impatient, but he manages to keep his mouth shut. Murphy shakes his head. "He means rid the world of anyone he thinks is a threat." He looks at Hawkins, a reserved anger laced in his voice. "We know ye were just using us, and that ye framed us for Beck's murder."
Hawkins chuckles, keeping that suave, politician bravado on the surface. "You're right. You two lads were a huge help in cleaning house these past several weeks. And that thing with Beck? I told your girl I can make it all go away…as long as you accept my offer."
Connor narrows his eyes, and Hawkins grins, turning on that stereotypical used-car salesman attitude as he continues to sell his offer to the boys. "See, you still get to kill the 'bad guys,' but you don't get to be the heroes either. I do have an image to maintain, you know. And it can't look like I'm involved, so…"
Murphy's eyebrows press together. "So ye'll keep saying we're the bad guys."
"It will be the longest manhunt in history. The FBI will keep playing it off as, 'Well, shit, these guys are good; we just can't catch them!' And when you're done—maybe you feel like you can't do it anymore because, let's face it, you're not getting any younger—you can go back into hiding and live out the rest of your saintly lives in retirement somewhere. I hear Ireland's nice…"
Connor scoffs. "Yer lying."
Hawkins just laughs. "I'm a politician. Of course, I'm lying, you son-of-a-bitch. Did you really think I'm going to just let you go? No, the FBI has to have their victory eventually." He rubs his hands together and then holds them out, gesturing weighing the options. "So either you two leprechauns go back to prison now, or you continue your holy mission for a while, and then you go back to prison."
The suited man paces around the room, straightening his tie as he keeps talking. "Unless you join us, fully commit to our mission."
"Yer nothing more than a suit wanting to control people," Connor replies roughly.
The statement pushes a slight smile across Hawkins' face. "That's all anyone wants: control. The problem is that most people don't know what to do with it once they have it."
"So ye take it from them?" Murphy asks in a flat tone.
"No, I help them. I know what's best for them, what's best for this country. Because I'm a patriot. Which is more than I can say for you two Micks."
Connor sees Murphy's jaw clench in the corner of his eye, and without faltering, he calmly reminds his brother, "Filleann an feall ar an bhfeallaire."
"What did you just say?" Hawkins approaches them, and when Connor refuses to answer, another nasty punch flies across his face. "This is America. We speak English. Not that…whatever the fuck that was."
Spitting blood onto the floor, Connor steals a look at Murphy. It was a proverb in Irish that Ma would always say: What goes around comes around. And as the MacManus brothers stare into each other's eyes, they hold onto faith that truth and justice will prevail here…even if they die trying.
"We will control this country's destiny. And if that means rewriting the story, bending the law to work in our favor, then so be it. If that means getting help from various crime syndicates, so be it…until we no longer need them."
"Like Lombardo?"
"Exactly. And anyone who gets in our way will be punished, just like your cop friend Beck."
"And those innocent people at Saint Agnes? Those girls?"
"Like I told your girl, they were a message." The politician straightens his tie and smooths the front of his suit as he smiles that conniving smile. "Controlling the narrative...that's what Obsidian does. We control America even when you can't fucking see it."
Connor and Murphy look at each other again, their famous MacManus smirks crawling up their faces as Hawkins grows agitated.
"Hey, Connor?" Murphy's voice sounds so innocent. "What was that one line from Batman Returns?"
Connor acts like he's really thinking, digging into his memory for the answer. Suddenly, he raises his eyebrows when it comes to him, so to speak. "Oh! Do ye mean, 'I played this stinking city like a harp from hell'?"
"Aye, that's it!" Murphy smiles with bright eyes.
Hawkins glares at the brothers, their faces so incredibly cocky as they keep going on their bullshit. Connor's smirk slides up his face more. "As ye know full well, we've got quite the cult following, so we've had some extra help—"
"And my brother gets all the best ideas from movies—" Murphy adds proudly, for once.
"Not to mention we know how much politicians love to talk about themselves—"
"Saying a whole bunch-a bullshit to make themselves look good—"
"And yer girl, Natasha, is already talking to the feds, telling them all yer dirty little secrets."
"Ye know, just in case the signal didn't come through."
Hawkins stands there momentarily, and the boys know they've gotten under his skin just as planned. He suddenly slaps the agent standing next to him, yelling, "You didn't think to check if they were fucking wired?"
The agent holds his cheek, looking like a little kid desperate to get out of trouble. "That's not their style! These guys aren't fucking James Bond or anything—"
"Nope. We're Irish," Connor interrupts as he and Murphy shake their heads in sync.
"Aye, fuck that James Bond shit."
Their cocky smiles quickly morph back into stoic stares as Hawkins pulls out his gun. But he points it at the agent, smiles, and then wiggles the gun around as he paces in front of the boys. "Impressive, I gotta say. Ballsy, too. Letting yourselves get captured, turning my girl against me, thinking all you need is my confession to take me down…" He stops and faces them, tapping the gun barrel in his palm. "There's just one problem with your little plan. You forgot I still have your girl." He leans down and gets right in Connor's face, "And I know how you feel about her."
Connor swallows his residual fear and again narrows his eyes with that famous smirk. "My girl can take care of herself," he states, his voice low and satisfied as he sees Elena quietly approach Hawkins with her gun raised.
"Oh, I know. She's a feisty one," Hawkins sneers, still looking at Connor but clearly sensing Elena's presence. "Bet you have a hell of a time fucking her."
Connor can feel his fists tightening against the handcuffs as his rage bubbles up more, its metallic taste mixing with the blood from his lip.
"Get away from him," Elena orders cooly. "And drop your gun."
Hawkins chuckles as he drops his gun and stands up straight. He slowly turns around with his hands raised slightly to Elena. "You can't do anything to me, not with my men here."
But the Obsidian agent pulls his gun and points it at Hawkins. The politician rolls his eyes and backs up to the wall, glaring at the Saints. "Like I said," Connor starts, "we've got quite the cult following now."
Elena holds steady as she approaches Hawkins more.
Hawkins laughs that evil laugh and quickly grabs Elena and her gun, throwing her around and holding her against his chest as he presses the Glock to the pulse in her neck. The Obsidian agent keeps his gun pointed at him, Murphy shifts anxiously in his restraints, and Elena tries to pull Hawkins' arm off of her.
And Connor's throat swells with that rage as his knuckles burn white against his clenched fists.
The arrogant politician transforms into the nefarious criminal he truly is as he orders the agent to drop his gun and promptly shoots the agent in the shoulder. He presses the gun back to Elena's neck, the heat of the barrel forcing a short scream out of her mouth, the sound ripping into Connor's heart.
"I told her if you couldn't play nice…" Hawkins tightens his grip on Elena as his voice continues to crescendo, "…if you decided to piss me off!" His eyes are dark and evil, and his mouth curls into a matching smile. "Change of plans, sweetheart. I'll take care of you now."
Elena's fearful eyes lock with Connor's, and his entire world disintegrates around him.
His stomach flips itself inside out as he watches Hawkins back out of the room with Elena at gunpoint. The edges of everything glow red as that deep, unforgiving rage explodes into every vein.
He can't hear anything, not even the sound of his own voice, as he pulls his wrists against the handcuffs. He's utterly numb to the blood streaming over his skin and onto the floor.
As far as is needed.
And he fucking breaks the chains.
The metal clatters around his skinned wrists as he grabs his gun from Hawkins' desk and takes off down the hall. Murphy's distant voice faintly breaks through the fury in Connor's head, assuring, "He can take care of it! Just let him go!"
The red glow of everything dissipates enough to force Connor to take a breath. He blinks quickly as he rounds the corner and yells at Hawkins. "This ends now!"
Hawkins turns and laughs, tightening his grip on Elena and pressing the gun harder against her skin. "Look at you trying to be the hero of the story!"
"It's over. Just let her go, and I'll let ye live."
The politician shakes his head, grinning. "Let me live, and everything you've stood for will have been a lie. Is that what you really want? Is that what your God wants?"
Connor clenches his jaw, feeling his anger boil behind his eyes.
"Or does your God want you to kill me?"
Connor's eyes lock with Elena's as everything they've become, everything they have to lose floods between them. And then there's that look.
That look she held on him the last time he saw her in prison.
That look after she killed those men in her apartment.
That look when he kissed her for the first time.
That look as he told her, "Yer not alone anymore."
That look when their souls connect.
He feels the slightest tug at the corners of his lips, a smile that keeps the faith as he lowers his gun. Elena's features shift calmly, showing her trust in Connor as his voice sounds so sure and certain, "Destroy all that which is evil—"
"—so that which is good may flourish," she finishes in virtuous solidarity. As Hawkins hesitates, Elena makes her move, grabbing the politician and throwing him backward into Murphy. She grabs the gun from Hawkins as Murphy wrestles him into a chokehold. He kicks him to his knees, holding his tie and pulling it taut while pressing his gun to the back of his head.
Hawkins laughs, his evil smile slick and undeterred. "No matter what you do, there will always be evil in the world."
Connor's gaze remains stoic as he approaches him. "Maybe. But I believe that good, decent people will keep fighting." He slips his hand into his coat pocket, revealing two clean copper pennies and tossing them before Hawkins' knees. "That…that ye cannot control."
As Hawkins' face falls slightly, morphing into sheer hatred, Connor glances up to meet his brother's narrowing, knowing eyes. That stubborn sense of MacManus justice and that stubborn sense of MacManus truth…a fucking dangerous yet righteous combination. The twins simultaneously take a deep breath, and Connor feels his doubt fade around him.
He knows what he needs to do.
As far as is needed.
The air falls silent as Hawkins falls dead at the feet of the Saints. Connor turns around, watching Elena slowly lower her gun. He looks back at the politician's body, counting three shots to the back of his head instead of two.
He feels her move closer to him oh so carefully, her eyes settling on his, almost warning him not to say a damn word. He knows. He knows what she did…why she did it.
"It's not your fault," her voice quietly assures.
Connor grazes his veritas finger across her forehead, tucking her hair behind her ear. He presses his lips together, the desire to kiss her strong enough to break the universe.
But the sounds of FBI agents storming into the building echo through the halls, pushing Connor and Murphy to run up the emergency exit staircase, with Elena following close behind. Despite saving the day and taking down Hawkins and Obsidian, the boys are still fugitives, wanted men in the eyes of the law. And they had promised each other that they wouldn't go back to prison. The boys know they have to disappear…again.
They run out onto the roof, the brisk autumn chill hitting their faces hard. Elena yells their names, almost catching up to them before an FBI agent grabs her, holding her back as the twins climb onto the ledge. Strangely, the agents don't say anything and maintain their distance from the brothers. Elena struggles against the man until Connor calmly calls out to her, the Irish word rolling off his tongue, "Gealbhan!"
Sparrow.
Her green eyes are wide and silently steady on him. With a deep breath, Connor tries to tell her everything without saying anything. Her mouth falls open, and her eyebrows press together with fear, but he subtly shakes his head, a small smile tugging his lips up as he holds her gaze. "Muinín dom."
Connor and Murphy look at each other, and that stubborn MacManus sense of righteousness vibrates between them. They smile slightly, their voices syncing like always as they recite the family prayer. "In Nomine Patris, et Fili…" But in the moment usually reserved for cocking their guns, the brothers drop their weapons with one last look at the small cluster of people approaching them. They cross themselves, then finish their prayer with reverence. "Spiritus Sancti."
And with that, Connor and Murphy both jump off the building, crashing into the water below as darkness engulfs them.