When the Sun Goes Down

Boston’s streets, normally littered with the presence of people, had seemed to have froze in time. No one walked the sun lit streets or alleyways, not even the animals scrounging for garbage. Connor and Murphy had just slipped through a rusted and dilapidated fire escape, leaving behind another gruesome scene for Boston’s Detectives to fight and cower over. It had been a long and tiring day, taking out another one of the cities most wanted fugitives.

He had not been a major mob boss or a bank robber, but a man who found his pleasure in the torture of others. His lips would curl into a sly and devilish smirk as tears cascaded down his last victim’s cheeks. She would plead with the man, asking for her mother and father, but he would only smile. He would find different mortician tools and experiment with her insides. Yet this man would never find any remorse in his actions. The Saints, however, did.

They would find this man in his four room apartment on the third floor, pleasuring himself to the corpse in his living room. Blood would be splattered across his dark skin and his smile would show neglected teeth, but he didn’t mind. Connor and Murphy would forever be mentally terrorized with this man in their head. Did this man care? Absolutely not. He would laugh at the groans and whimpers of the weak, not caring how deep these wounds he inflicted went, mentally or physically.

The boys would take this man by surprise, but not before starring in absolute amazement and disgust at what he was doing. They wouldn’t just push him to his knees, but beat and torture this man within an inch of his death. This man would laugh and call for more before they pressed their precious silencers to the back of this deranged man’s head. Connor and Murphy would debate saying their prayer, but would follow through one hundred percent. What would Da think if they didn’t do like normal?

Connor and Murphy found themselves back in their apartment, blood and sweat clinging to their skin like a bad habit. As they closed their front door behind them, Murphy instantly began peeling his torn and tattered clothing from his body. His eyes welled in tears as he thought back on the five year old in this man’s house. This five year old girl that wouldn’t be recognizable to any human beings eyes. Connor dropped to his knees and rested his face in his hands, silently praying to his God to forgive them of their actions.

Murphy stumbled into his shower, pulling off the last of his clothing. He turned the knob to the shower, feeling the freezing water slowly turn to a hot steam. He wiped his bloodied face with his stained hands as his tears fell. How could such a monster be real? This man, David DeRea, was worse than the monsters’ in someone’s closet or bed. David DeRea was worse than anyone Murphy could think of.

The shower beaded down his neck and back, turning his pale skin to a light pink. Murphy felt the need to wash and scrub every inch of his body, afraid that he may contract that monster’s disease. He eventually fell to his knees, covering his face in his sore and scared hands. His collused fingers wiped his swollen eyes as Connor came back to his senses. Murphy crawled from the shower when he finished and dressed. Both of the boys seemed to have been in a daze.

It was the worst case they have ever done. Women and children were a number one priority in their book; they wouldn’t bare to see them in trouble or pain if they could help it. They were murderers’ by day, but gentlemen by night. Their Da would never approve of such actions if his life depended on it. Connor followed after Murphy and showered as well, but he was able to keep himself mentally stable while doing so.

Murphy silently and in a daze reached for his cigarettes. He pushed one in between his chapped and dry lips and lit it, inhaling rather deeply. He looked down at his dangerous but prized weapons and smiled just slightly. He picked up his gun and looked it over carefully. This was what made the monsters’ go away. This gun was what stopped and prevented more murders from happening. He placed it down gently and brushed his hair back with his hands.

Connor stepped from the shower and dressed. He slowly and painfully walked up to the small table Murphy was at and stuck out his hand for a cigarette. Once receiving one he instantly lit it. It was such an odd day for the brother’s that they didn’t want to drive further into their self proclaimed jobs. Connor scratched back his wet hair and plopped down in a seat in front of Murphy. With a shake of his head, he took a large pull of his cigarette.

“What do ya call that?”Connor’s eyes never left the table.

It stayed silent for a few minutes as the boys tried to think. There was no specific name for a man like that.

“A monster.”Murphy looked up at Connor with hurt in his eyes.

“He has no name.”Connor looked up, obviously angry.”That thing gets no, name.”

He was intent on his words and Murphy could only nod in agreement. That thing deserved absolutely nothing from the human race but a slow and torturous death. There was no human on earth that could do the things David DeRea did to those little girls. How could torturing a young child, mentally and physically, be pleasing? Both Connor and Murphy stayed silent on the subject, not knowing exactly what to say. It was something no one knew how to come about.

The brother’s smoked heavily from their cigarettes and kept a short and one worded conversation. It was only another day to them. They didn’t know how much worse their job could get, but something irked at Murphy’s brain. Like a flea at the top layer of a dog’s skin. Something was pushing at him, trying to break him down. He didn’t know if it was a message from God himself, a warning if you may, but their job was going to become a job no more, but a test from nature to prove their strength.

Things would get much worse from now on and it would be a survival game. Their front door eased open just slightly and the boys simultaneously turned to the door, weapons drawn. Their muscles tensed and ached at the sudden movement, but you could never be sure on who would find them nowadays. Their bodies relaxed, though, when Da walked through their door. They instantly dropped their weapons and chuckled in relief to themselves. Da smiled warmly, giving his fatherly aura off within the room.

“Hello, boys.”He greeted.

“Ya scared the shit outta us, Da.”Connor chuckled.

Da took a seat between both brother’s and dug his hand into one of his many pockets. He retrieved two packs of cigarettes and handed them off to the brothers. Their smiles widened as they took hold of them. Da was next in smoking, pulling a large, thick cigar from his pocket. As he lit it, he puffed from it softly. He looked at Connor and Murphy and took notice of their features. Their brows furrowed slightly, but the one thing he noticed automatically was their smiles. They didn’t smile like they normally did.

“What’s wrong, boys?”He leaned back in the chair to get comfortable.

Once putting out their cigarettes, they were quick to light another. It may have been a temporary solution to their stress, but at this point no single nicotine stick was doing them any good.

“This demon, Da.”Connor breathed.”His actions were so,”

Connor brushed his hand down his face and took in a shallow breath. His heart had grown hollow at the touch of that cold man’s skin. It was like his disease pressed through his gloved hands and grasped tightly onto him. Connor didn’t know how to feel at this point.

“He was an evil - vile man, Da.”Murphy whispered softly.”I’m happy ya weren’t there to see it.”

“Boys,”He grabbed each one of their hands tightly, making sure to make eye contact with the both of them.”that man will no longer be able to proceed with his evil deeds. That man will burn in the depths of hell fer all eternity. He chose his path. You two lads were at the end of his dangerous road.”

They squeezed his hands tightly, smiling warmly at Da’s comforting words. He soon let go of their hands and leaned back in his seat. He pressed his two fingers along the cigar and pulled it away from his mouth. As the smoke crawled from his bearded lips, he whispered, “There’s another man, boys. Another cold, deceitful man.”

They knew it was the start of another job, but what would it hold this time? Some men feared no evil, such as both Connor and Murphy. Then there were those who feared no good. No matter how many stories fell about The Saints, some refused to live out of their own dream world. They think that Da, Connor and Murphy will never get to them, but within a times end, they will be there, their silencers pressed so tight against the back of their head, they’ll feel it for all eternity.

“Where is this bastard?”Murphy growled.