‹ Prequel: Twist of a Bounty
The Saints Are Coming
Amateurs
Smecker steppe through the room, eyeing down each of the dead mob men. Classical music played through his headphones and into his ears as a grim smile played against his lips.
“What is he doing?”Dolly and Duffy eyed down the conspicuous Detective and stifled a laugh.
“I don’t know, but I can’t watch.”Dolly chuckled.
Smecker stopped suddenly and pulled the headphones from his ears.
“Well they’re no professionals.”He stepped to the man in the middle of the room and took in his posture.
His arms were crossed over his broad chest, pennies resting on his tired eyes. Blood soaked through the carpet and into his expensive clothes.
“But they’re religious.”He looked over at Greenly, Dolly and Duffy with a face of no emotion.
“What makes this religious?”Dolly questioned.
“Look at them.”Duffy began.”The pennies in the eyes. Their positions.”
“Exactly. I wouldn’t be surprised if a prayer of some sort was involved.”Smecker grinned.”What a gun fight.”
The McManus’ stood behind the Boss, silencers at the back of his head. Five other dead men would be his last visual. Five of his dead men. He cursed in his native tongue, but quickly followed with a pleading prayer to God.
“And Shepherds we shall be. 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.”Their voices swirled in unison.
“En nomine patre,”Connor stated.
“Et fili,”Murphy only showed vengeance in his quiet voice.
“Spiritus Sancti.”Gunshots echoed quietly in the large room.
“There is absolutely no trace back to this man.”Duffy sighed.
“Plural Duffy. These men. These.”Detective Smecker implied.”There’s no possible way one person came in here and cleaned this place out.”
“How can there be no trace? Dere’s gotta be somethin’, right? Blood, hair, prints?”Greenly stated.
“They’re amateurs, but good.”He said.”And somethin’ tells me they’re not done.”
“Pack of Newports, please.”As the worker turned I pointed my gaze up at the tv in the top corner of the store.
I listened in as the newscaster explained the gorey scene behind her. Six mob men had been killed by so called religious hands. Scattered pictures danced across the tv and I gasped slightly.
“$8.75.”The man turned back to the tv, then to me with a smile.”Yeah, dose creeps were dubbed The Saints. I guess it’s ‘bout time someone cleans up dese streets. That’ll be $8.75 lady.”
I left the store, a lit cigarette clinging to my lips. I couldn’t help but let a smile crawl to my lips. I didn’t believe much in it, but I think that Karma was coming around ever so slowly. And as for work, I needed to get those pictures of the dead peons.
“What is he doing?”Dolly and Duffy eyed down the conspicuous Detective and stifled a laugh.
“I don’t know, but I can’t watch.”Dolly chuckled.
Smecker stopped suddenly and pulled the headphones from his ears.
“Well they’re no professionals.”He stepped to the man in the middle of the room and took in his posture.
His arms were crossed over his broad chest, pennies resting on his tired eyes. Blood soaked through the carpet and into his expensive clothes.
“But they’re religious.”He looked over at Greenly, Dolly and Duffy with a face of no emotion.
“What makes this religious?”Dolly questioned.
“Look at them.”Duffy began.”The pennies in the eyes. Their positions.”
“Exactly. I wouldn’t be surprised if a prayer of some sort was involved.”Smecker grinned.”What a gun fight.”
The McManus’ stood behind the Boss, silencers at the back of his head. Five other dead men would be his last visual. Five of his dead men. He cursed in his native tongue, but quickly followed with a pleading prayer to God.
“And Shepherds we shall be. 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.”Their voices swirled in unison.
“En nomine patre,”Connor stated.
“Et fili,”Murphy only showed vengeance in his quiet voice.
“Spiritus Sancti.”Gunshots echoed quietly in the large room.
“There is absolutely no trace back to this man.”Duffy sighed.
“Plural Duffy. These men. These.”Detective Smecker implied.”There’s no possible way one person came in here and cleaned this place out.”
“How can there be no trace? Dere’s gotta be somethin’, right? Blood, hair, prints?”Greenly stated.
“They’re amateurs, but good.”He said.”And somethin’ tells me they’re not done.”
“Pack of Newports, please.”As the worker turned I pointed my gaze up at the tv in the top corner of the store.
I listened in as the newscaster explained the gorey scene behind her. Six mob men had been killed by so called religious hands. Scattered pictures danced across the tv and I gasped slightly.
“$8.75.”The man turned back to the tv, then to me with a smile.”Yeah, dose creeps were dubbed The Saints. I guess it’s ‘bout time someone cleans up dese streets. That’ll be $8.75 lady.”
I left the store, a lit cigarette clinging to my lips. I couldn’t help but let a smile crawl to my lips. I didn’t believe much in it, but I think that Karma was coming around ever so slowly. And as for work, I needed to get those pictures of the dead peons.