The Mallavogue Boondock Saints
Chapter One;
"When the Lord your God brings you into the land you are entering to possess and drives before you many nations…then you must destroy them totally. Make no treaty with them, and show them no mercy." -Deuteronomy 7: 1-2
-*-*-*-*-*-*-
The Sirens wailed louder and louder as Detective Downton pulled off his rubber gloves. He examined the scene in front of him. Four dead bodies, all with three shots to the chest. The arms of the four dead FBI agents where crossed over their chest, pennies rested on their eye lids. Downton stood up, walking around the room slowly, taking in anything he might have missed. He crossed his arms over his chest, scratching his chin as he spoke; "Four of the greatest FBI agents in the USA are dead. All shot three times to the chest, then some asshole puts pennies on their eyes. It just doesn't make any sense..."
He sighed heavily and ran his hand over his face; "Get me statistics Greenly. And someone get me some coffee!"
A short fat man jumped forward, the side of his mouth twitching lightly; "Ah Detective D-D-Downton, Forensic's has found DNA that matches FBI agent Feller's kid Sir. They think he could have been taken hostage by the bastard that did this."
Detective Downton started for the door, turning around as he reached it; "This is now a Federal Hostage Situation! I want all men on the streets! Talk to the neighbors get me information people!"
He turned and stalked out of the room, leaving Officer Greenly and Officer Turner alone with the Forensic's team.
Officer Turner turned to Greenly, sighing as he spoke;
"You don't think it could be them, do yah?"
Greenly crossed his arms roughly; "It doesn't look like anyone else. Who else does that damn Greek shit? If it was them, why FBI agents? And why take a hostage?"
"It all doesn't make sense. It's to sloppy for it to be them. Plus they ran out of Boston 3 years ago. Why would they come back now?"
"I don't know. But we better figure it out."
And with that the two of them walked out of the hotel room. Leaving the Forensic's team to clean up the scene.
********************************
A loud horn blared through out the walls of the ship, making the walls tremble below deck. The ship rocked back and forth slowly, causing the crates in the storage area to slide back and forth. Two men sat on the cold metal floor. One cocking back the barrel of a shiny black gun, the other held a pair of scissors to his hair. The horn blared again, causing the two men to cover their ears.
"Ye'd Think they would 'av heard that fucking horn enough by now!" the man holding the Sisscor's yelled.
"Yeah, I bet the Caption is deaf!" The other yelled back.
The horn soon subsided and the men removed their hands from over their ears. They both talked with Irish accents, their hair was a dark brown. Their skin tan and their hand calloused from hard work. The one with the gun stood up, he set the gun down atop a crate and ran his hand roughly through his now short hair. He sighed and pulled on a dark blue shirt, turning towards the other man, who was now using the scissors on his own hair; "Ye ready for this Murf?"
The man holding the scissors sighed; "I don't know, man. 'Tis been three years since we've been back to Boston. Yer think this is the right move for us?"
"Ter be 'onest. I don't know much of anythin' anymore these days."
They looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. Murphy threw an empty beer bottle at Connor; "What the fuck was that about? Spouting poetry like fucking Shakespeare!"
Connor dodged the bottle, laughing again; "Oh well fuck you! At least I don't look like the new Christ anymore!"
Murphy laughed again, resuming cutting off his long and tangled hair. The two fell silent again, the sloshing of the water outside filling the room once more. Connor sat down on a crate across from Murphy. He placed his hands on his knees, sighing loudly; "Look Murf, I know 'tis been a while since we've been back ter Boston. But with what happened with Father, we just can't ignore this anymore."
Murphy set down the scissors, having finished his hair; "I know. 'Tis what the old man woulda done. We have to go back."
They sat in silence for a long time after that. There was no need to speak anymore. They each showered and put on their normal clothing, dark blue jeans with navy blue shirts, and a long black leather coat to top it off. They could feel the boat pulling into shore now.
Murphy picked up his gun, cocking it back roughly; "Lets go kick some ass."
-*-*-*-*-*-*-
The Sirens wailed louder and louder as Detective Downton pulled off his rubber gloves. He examined the scene in front of him. Four dead bodies, all with three shots to the chest. The arms of the four dead FBI agents where crossed over their chest, pennies rested on their eye lids. Downton stood up, walking around the room slowly, taking in anything he might have missed. He crossed his arms over his chest, scratching his chin as he spoke; "Four of the greatest FBI agents in the USA are dead. All shot three times to the chest, then some asshole puts pennies on their eyes. It just doesn't make any sense..."
He sighed heavily and ran his hand over his face; "Get me statistics Greenly. And someone get me some coffee!"
A short fat man jumped forward, the side of his mouth twitching lightly; "Ah Detective D-D-Downton, Forensic's has found DNA that matches FBI agent Feller's kid Sir. They think he could have been taken hostage by the bastard that did this."
Detective Downton started for the door, turning around as he reached it; "This is now a Federal Hostage Situation! I want all men on the streets! Talk to the neighbors get me information people!"
He turned and stalked out of the room, leaving Officer Greenly and Officer Turner alone with the Forensic's team.
Officer Turner turned to Greenly, sighing as he spoke;
"You don't think it could be them, do yah?"
Greenly crossed his arms roughly; "It doesn't look like anyone else. Who else does that damn Greek shit? If it was them, why FBI agents? And why take a hostage?"
"It all doesn't make sense. It's to sloppy for it to be them. Plus they ran out of Boston 3 years ago. Why would they come back now?"
"I don't know. But we better figure it out."
And with that the two of them walked out of the hotel room. Leaving the Forensic's team to clean up the scene.
********************************
A loud horn blared through out the walls of the ship, making the walls tremble below deck. The ship rocked back and forth slowly, causing the crates in the storage area to slide back and forth. Two men sat on the cold metal floor. One cocking back the barrel of a shiny black gun, the other held a pair of scissors to his hair. The horn blared again, causing the two men to cover their ears.
"Ye'd Think they would 'av heard that fucking horn enough by now!" the man holding the Sisscor's yelled.
"Yeah, I bet the Caption is deaf!" The other yelled back.
The horn soon subsided and the men removed their hands from over their ears. They both talked with Irish accents, their hair was a dark brown. Their skin tan and their hand calloused from hard work. The one with the gun stood up, he set the gun down atop a crate and ran his hand roughly through his now short hair. He sighed and pulled on a dark blue shirt, turning towards the other man, who was now using the scissors on his own hair; "Ye ready for this Murf?"
The man holding the scissors sighed; "I don't know, man. 'Tis been three years since we've been back to Boston. Yer think this is the right move for us?"
"Ter be 'onest. I don't know much of anythin' anymore these days."
They looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. Murphy threw an empty beer bottle at Connor; "What the fuck was that about? Spouting poetry like fucking Shakespeare!"
Connor dodged the bottle, laughing again; "Oh well fuck you! At least I don't look like the new Christ anymore!"
Murphy laughed again, resuming cutting off his long and tangled hair. The two fell silent again, the sloshing of the water outside filling the room once more. Connor sat down on a crate across from Murphy. He placed his hands on his knees, sighing loudly; "Look Murf, I know 'tis been a while since we've been back ter Boston. But with what happened with Father, we just can't ignore this anymore."
Murphy set down the scissors, having finished his hair; "I know. 'Tis what the old man woulda done. We have to go back."
They sat in silence for a long time after that. There was no need to speak anymore. They each showered and put on their normal clothing, dark blue jeans with navy blue shirts, and a long black leather coat to top it off. They could feel the boat pulling into shore now.
Murphy picked up his gun, cocking it back roughly; "Lets go kick some ass."