My Life For Hire

I sighed as I looked around the cold bare apartment I was currently residing in. There was absolutely nothing to it; no personality whatsoever. No posters, no pictures of friends and family, and only one small mirror in the bathroom. Like I said, nothing to it.

But that's what you need in the buisness I'm in. You see, I'm a bad person, I can admit to that. I'm a bad person, who does very, very bad things. What bad things you ask? Well, I kill peope. Simple as that. I get paid to kill people. Have you ever heard of the X-men? The comic books, I mean. There's a character in there, Deadpool. I'm pretty much like him, though there are a few distinguishing qualities so you won't confuse us. I am in fact a woman, although many believe I'm male. I definitely can't heal whenever I decide, which is why my body is adorned with multiple scars; gunshot wounds, knife wounds, you get it. And last but not least, I have never been in a movie with Hugh Jackman, sadly. But the one thing we have in common, is the word mercenary. We both proudly announce it to anyone who asks.

But that is extremely besides the point. Currently, I was thinking about my next assignment. I had been taking care of some buisness out in Malibu when I got the call. All the way from Boston, yes the phone company will just love that one. They probably love me, just from the long distance calls I get. Where was I? Oh yes, Boston. Someone wanted me to take out two hitmen, known to the public as the "Saints". The first thing that ran through my head when I heard that? Why don't I have a cool media nickname like that? After I recovered from my pout, I agreed to it. Apparentally, they were a challenge to take down, so naturally, I was flattered.

So now here I am, sitting in the dank old apartment, trying to figure out what the fuck I'm doing with my life. Questioning all of my motives. I know what you're thinking, I'm going soft. But here's the truth: only one thing could ever make me go soft. And I never, ever believed that the one thing that could do it to me would actually show up. Hah, and you probably thought I was going to say I got a message from God, or some shit like that. Well, I suppse one could view it in that way, but I choose not to. Here's what happened.

I found my way to Boston, knowing that I had to find my contact as soon as possible. I looked around the familiar streets as I walked towards a diner I had gone to many times before I had become what I am now. To be honest, the place has one of the best burgers in the country, but that doesn't matter. Back to the story.

I walked into the diner, taking my sunglasses off and putting them in my bag as I looked around to find my contact. I looked for the trademark pink hair and walked over, taking a seat across from her. She slowly looked up from the book she was reading. I peeked at the cover, instantly recognizing the barbed wire on the front of the book, signaling that it was Desperation by Stephen King.

"Good book," I commented and she nodded.

"Not that we're here for a book club, but yes, it is. You have most of the information, correct?" She asked, lacing her fingers together as she placed them on the table in front of her.

"Yes, I just want to know why people can't seem to get them."

"Some people think they have the law on their side, and I wouldn't be too suprised if they did. That's why you were called, not to blow up your ego, but people who know you, know that you're good at this. You can't have help on this one, though I doubt that'll matter to you." She looked at me and I shook my head.

"The only time I ever have help is when people decide they'll feel good about themselves if they help out," I pointed out and she nodded.

"That's what I was assuming. Anyways, they were in Ireland, but apparentally they've returned."

"Apparentally? I don't wanna go on a wild goose chase for these guys if they're not even in the country. I'm not getting paid enough for that," I said, knowing how to negotiate.

"Well, a man was murdered and it was made to look like it was the Saints."

"How do we know it wasn't them?"

"It was a priest, in a church. They're called the Saints for a reason. They only kill the bad men. Guess who called you in on this?" She asked sarcastically.

"So they'll show up because they were framed?"

"Exactally." I smiled, nodding my head.

"This sounds like fun."

Well sure, it was fun for awhile. Until I actually caught up with the men. Here's something that sets me apart from the other mercenaries I know. I actually have a concious, somewhat. And trying to find these "Saints" sure as hell wasn't helping that out. Expecially once I figured out who they actually were. Once that happened, I started to rethink my whole life in general.

"DROP, YOUR FUCKING, GUNS! NOW!!" I yelled and the men dropped their guns.

"Happy?" One asked.

"Tell the fucker behind me to listen or you'll all die," I said in an even, calm voice. The man facing me nodded and I heard the safety of a gun click on behind me.

"I can't believe you guys," I heard a man's somewhat scratchy voice say from behind me.

"Tell him to get his Mexican ass around here where I can see him," I said, pointing to the man for good measures.

"Rome, come on." I took note of the Irish accents but quickly dismissed it from my mind.

"Alright. Masks off. What do you think this shit is? TV?" I asked, slightly amused. They were grown men, but they reminded me of little kids playing a game, which wasn't what you wanted to do in this buisness, but it seemed to be working for them. I watched as the man in front of me took his off, glancing at the man in front of me. My gun was pressed up to his head, so he didn't make a move. I leaned forward and ripped the mask off his head, watching the brown hair catch static from the sudden removal of the fabric.

"Wha' are ye doin'?" The man with the lighter hair asked, his hands still up in front of him. I eyes his guns on the ground, deciding I'd have enough time if he tried to go for them.

"I was hired to take care of you three. Someone doesn't seem to like you. Hmmm, shocking," I said, sarcasm dripping off my voice with the last statement. "Why are you even doing this shit? You're obviously amatures."

"Amatures?!" The one facing me said while the one in front of me scoffed.

"How'd you guys even meet? You just decided together it'd be a good idea? Or did you meet up on a job? No, that's not it, you did it together from the beginning, I remember reading that when I took the job."

"We're brothers," The one kneeling in front of me said and I frowned slightly.

"So if one of you were to die, what would happen?"

"Whoe'er killed 'im would die a slow death."

"Ahh, I see. How close in age are you?" I liked playing games with my victims sometimes.

"Twins."

"Oh really? I knew some Irish twins at one point in life, funny thing, huh? So what are your names?"

"Connor..tha's Murphy." At this I froze, though I kept my poker face on

"Really now?"

"And yer name?" I cleared my throat, looking over at him as I did so.

"Why should I tell you?"

"We jus' told ye ours..."

"Fine. Megan-Marie." I watched as his face changed.

"N-...no...McFinnegan?" I paused, just staring at him.

"No..." I heard gunshots, and knew it was someone they knew, come to save their asses. I knew what I had to do, and tried to focus my mind into doing it. I looked down at the brunette in front of me and when I tried to pull the trigger, I couldn't. I felt my lip start to tremble and I turned and ran the opposite way of the gunfire, knowing how to get out of the warehouse undetected.

If you haven't figured it out by now, I'll tell you what the big deal is. My name actually is Megan-Marie McFinnegan. I knew the Saints way before they changed into what they are now, and before I changed into what I am now. Once I realized it was them, I knew there was no way I would have been able to do the job. I was just glad that I had caught Murphy before the masks had been removed. I would have recognized him in a nanosecond. His eyes always gave him away, no matter what disguise he ever wore, you would know it's him, just by the eyes.

So here is my dilema. Get a whole lot of money for killing these guys, one who used to be my best friend while the other used to be the love of my life, or get killed if I don't. If you don't think it's a hard choice, then try being put in the situation. It's harder than you think. So as I sit her, ignoring the phone calls I'm getting, I'm trying to figure it all out.

After about an hour of constant ringing, my phone finally stops and I don't even check the voicemails. I know who it is, and I know they just want to know if I've succeeded yet. They're probably watching the news every hour, on the hour to see if there is going to be a breaking news alert, announcing that Bostons beloved Saints have been brutally murdered. But there isn't going to be one. I've decided there's no way I could do it.

I rushed to find them, only to be held at gunpoint by the Mexican I had encountered earlier. I racked my brain for what his name was, and only vagely remembered Connor calling him Rome, but that doesn't seem like it could be right. Possibly short for Romeo? I shook my head as he questioned why he should let me live.

"Tell the twins I'm here. No, better yet, just tell Murphy..." He paused before letting the gun pull away from my head for a moment.

"Why would he care?" He questioned.

"Just do it," I said, not feeling like explaining it. A few seconds later, Murphy walked out, stopping when he saw me.

"Wha' d' ye want?" He asked, staying where he was.

"I wanted to tell you that, even though I was offered a huge sum of money to do off with you guys, I'm not going to do it."

"Why? So ye can get our guard down, then do it? Sorry, we're not that easy to tric-..." He stopped talking when I pulled the blonde wig off my head, revealing my bright red hair, along with many other colors dyed in. Once he saw that, he realized it was truely me standing in front of him.

"Murph! Wha' are ye..." Connor walked out and stopped upon seeing me also.

"What the fuck is going on here?!" The mexican yelled from behind me.

"Shut up Romeo," Connor muttered as Murphy walked towards me.

"Wha' happened t' ye?" He asked, his voice just barley above a whisper, once he reached me. His hand reached out slowly to rest on my cheek as I looked up into his bright blue eyes with my deep green ones.

"Had to find a way to pay the bills?" I suggested, biting my lip. In all honesty, once he left, I felt there was nothing left to loose in my life. Little did I know I would be one of the best mercenaries in the country, and that was what kept me alive all these years.

"Is this because o' us?" He asked and I hesitated before nodding, not wanting to see the hurt look on his face.

"I'm sorry," I said, suddenly feeling a wave of emotions I had been pushing away for years come crashing all over me.

"I'm not worth all o' this...why?"

"Because I loved you Murphy! I was heartbroken when you left! I coudln't handle it...I only did all this because there was nothing to lose!" I was about to say more when his lips crashed on mine, silencing me for the moment. I kissed him back, soaking up the feeling I got when I kissed him. I realized that feeling had stayed the same, from the first time we kissed to now. I was amazed, I thought you only read about things like that happening.

"We 'ave t' get outta here. Meet up with us later, a'right?" I nodded weakly, not wanting to leave him just yet. But I knew I had to. Someone would come looking eventually, and if they caught us together like this, we'd all be screwed.

Looking back, I wish I would have stayed with him. Just stayed with the whole group and booked it out of Boston. Because when I got to the apartment complex I was in, you could tell there was something eerie about it. I was used to that feeling though, so I just brushed it off. That was my first mistake. Thinking about it now, it was a different kind of feeling. But I'm the brave one, the one who just doesn't seem to care anymore. Oh, how I wish I wasn't. Now, I just wish I was a normal 24 year old, living quietly with nothing that exciting going on. But I chose this life, and I have to deal with the consequences.

Consequences, you ask? Yes. Here are the consequences. If you don't do the job you were paid to do, there are consequences. Expecially with these men. I said I'd be done with the job in three days. It was now three days and four hours, so I was overdue. I didn't think anything of it, until I shut the door to the apartment and felt a sharp pain in my back. I looked back to see a man pull the knife from my back, only to plunge it in again.

"This is what happens when you cross the Yakavetta family," He whispered harshly in my ear, covering my mouth so no one would hear me weakly calling out for help. I felt the life draining from my body, but that didn't even matter to me. I knew it was bound to come around sooner rather than later. But the thoughts taking over my mind as my vision started to cloud, were that I just wanted the boys to be safe. I was wishing that I would have told them if I didn't show up soon enough to just leave. But they ended up being fine.

I guess the Yakavetta family is pretty bad at what they do, because when they tried to ambush the boys, they all ended up dead. I sighed, looking up at the big man in front of me.

"You told them to do that?" I asked and he cocked an eyebrow.

"I gave them a message and let them interpret it however they choose."

"Do you care that they're killing that many men?"

"They're bad men. Killing innocent people. Those boys have never harmed an innocent person. You on the other hand," He said, looking down at the sheets of paper on his desk.

"I've killed a lot of innocents," I said, slumping in the chair I was in, realizing that even in my afterlife, I wouldn't be able to be with Murphy.

"Actually, there's not many on this list. Yes, you were hired by bad people, but you also helped take out a lot of bad men. But here is the real question, Miss. McFinnegan." I looked up at him with a quizzical look on my face. "Do you regret any of those murders?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you could go back in time and stop yourself from doing what you did, would you? Or would you stay in the buisness, taking peoples money in order to murder people you've never met?" He asked, folding his hands together on his desk.

"I would take it all back if I could. I'm not sure I would have said that a few days ago though. Meeting up with the boys again helped change my mind..."

"That's all I needed to hear. You're welcome in here if you like, however, if you choose to, you could stay down there." He pointed down and I looked down, seeing Murphy leading a limping Connor towards a car, where Romeo was already in the drivers seat.

"As a ghost?" I asked, looking up at him. "I thought they didn't have a choice of staying down there..."

"Oh some of them don't, but a lot do. Which would you choose? Staying up here, or down there?" I pursed my lips, wishing I could go back to Murphy, but knowing it was impossible.

"I'll stay here," I whispered, hearing the gates swing open.

"Good choice."