THE BOONDOCK SAINTS
In…
"Faith No More"
Chapter 1
Requiem
This dark Friday began in the back streets of Boston. The MacManus brothers, accompanied by their father were face to face with Russian mob boss Dmitri Kablevsky. They had been tracking his wrong-doings for sometime now, he was their latest target, but was not in the least bit their most difficult. This was going to be one of the easier jobs. It wasn't supposed to go wrong. No one was supposed to get hurt (except for Kablevsky and his men).
"The legendary 'Il… Dulce…' and his Saints," Kablevsky spat in his thick Russian accent. Kablevsky mentioned their father's alias with a long drawl suggesting disgust in Il Dulce's traitorous acts. "You choose to fight with them?"
"You shut your fuckin' face! I've heard enough of your bullshit!" Father screamed in his own thick, Irish accent.
"Ya! You think? Fine! Have eet your way!" Kablevsky shouted, "Vladimir! Igor!"
Two colossal men flanked the mob boss with guns drawn. Connor smirked, Two? He thought, this'll be a piece of cake!
Connor and Murphy slid their tattooed hands slowly to the butt of their guns. Father whipped his rifle from beneath his black overcoat. The dark alley was lit with the fireworks and sparkles of weapons firing. It didn't take long for Murphy to realize the ambush behind them. Six Russian mob soldiers closed them off from behind. Although he noticed, Murphy was unable able to act in time. Their guns began blazing the bright yellow flashes.
This wasn't supposed to be difficult. It was a meet and greet. Kill the Russian mob boss. It had gotten out of hand. Murphy aimed at the Russian soldiers behind them, but their bullets had already reached him. As he pulled his own trigger, the metal pierced his skin causing his arm to flail. A stray bullet from Murphy's gun pierced Father in the calf. Father's leg buckled from under him. He fell.
"Da!" Murphy screamed in pain. His eyes transformed into tiny dark slits as he switched his gun from his right hand to his left and began to fire. With intense accuracy and six bullets, the six soldiers fell to the dank, wet cement. He turned to see Vladimir and Igor bloodied on the ground, their eyes still wide from the shock of Connor's bullets.
Connor had run after Kablevsky and pounced on him, holding him to the cold alley ground.
Connor and Murphys' voices melded together to form their family prayer as they held their pistols to the head of Dmitri Kablevsky. "And shepherds we shall be. For thee, my Lord, for thee. Power hath descended forth from thy hand that our feet may swiftly carry out thy command. So we shall flow a river forth to thee and teeming with souls shall it ever be. E nomini Patri, et Fili, et Spiritu Sancti." CRACK! Kablevsky's body fell limply to the ground, crimson flowing freely from the newly formed craters where his eyes once resided.
Murphy and Connor walked over to their father. "Ya okay, Da?" Connor asked, knowing full well that his father would be fine. They were used to this by now.
"Aye Connor, help me up," Father replied smirking and wincing simultaneously.
Connor held his hand outstretched for his father to grasp. Then, Father's head exploded in a spray of bright red gore. A bullet had flown straight into the top of his skull, skimming through the long gray locks of hair and fracturing the old man's skin as it pierced the skull and lodged itself into Father's brain. A small stream of smoke emitted from the gaping hole in the man's head. His face was frozen in a state of shock similar to the faces of the fallen Igor and Vladimir.
A dying Russian soldier gasped his last breath as he dropped his gun which had fired the single shot. He drooped his head and died having just killed one of the greatest heroes of the twentieth century. "Da? Da?! DA?!" Connor's screams echoed off the bricks of the walls which created the deadly alley.
Murphy couldn't speak. He fell to his knees, his eyes void of any emotion. The void became filled with salty tears spilling down the skin on his face. Murphy attempted to speak again, nothing. Connor continued to scream heart-felt screams of pain, sadness, and love. "No! No, ya can't!"
Murphy continued to stare into his father's empty eyes. His vision became blurry with more and more tears. His hand reached out and grasped his father's limp hand. He lifted his father's torso as if he were trying to awaken his father from a deep sleep. Connor knelt beside his dark-haired brother. He had stopped screaming, though not of his own accord; his emotional pain had welled up inside of him causing his throat to constrict. He began to wheeze inaudible syllables of pain and denial.
Murphy turned to his brother, taking his eyes off of his father for the first time since the bullet ended his life. Connor's usual bright hair seemed dulled. Connor grabbed his father and proceeded to hold him in his arms hugging him with the love of a son. "It…can't…" Connor's words faded as he held his father's body.
Murphy felt as though he was awaking from a horrible nightmare, the blue and red lights accompanied by the screech of the wailing siren were the alarm which awakened him.
"Connor." It was all Murphy could say in attempt to alert his brother to the approaching threat.
Connor didn't seem to care; it was as though nothing mattered any more. The cop car now blocked one opening of the alley. Two men got out, a cop and a detective. As they walked into the light, Murphy saw the officer's name tag identifying him as an Officer Reese. Murphy recognized the detective immediately, Detective Greenly.
"Oh fuck," Greenly gasped in a semi-silent breath as he realized what had just happened. He felt great pity for the two brothers; it was obvious their grief was intense. Usually, the Saints would have fled the scene by now. Not tonight. Greenly began to wonder how he would manage to convince Officer Reese to let the brothers go. He felt lucky that he was one of the first to respond, or the brothers may have never have gotten away. He knew that he had to get them out of here quickly incase more arrived on the scene.
Officer Reese examined Greenly with great suspicion, it was apparent that Greenly felt sorry for these two men. "These are the Saints. We got 'em!"
"No, we don't," Greenly replied in a stern whisper.
"What? You're not going to take them in?" Officer Reese replied, astounded.
"No and you can't either. I was on their first ever case, they do good."
"Fuck no! I ain't lettin them go!"
"Reese, show some fuckin compassion for them. They just lost their fuckin dad, we got to get them out of here!"
The police officer looked nervously at Greenly then the MacManus brothers who had still not responded to the two men. Reese let out a disappointed sigh as he gave in to his detective partner. "Fuck," he whispered intensely.
"Connor, Murphy, we need to get you two the fuck out of here," Greenly said sternly, his thick Boston accent a few decibels louder to get their attention.
"No, Da," Connor yelped, grasping his father closer to his chest.
"We'll go, but we want to take him with us," Murphy said trying to wipe his tears from his cheeks.
"Shit fine, come on!" Greenly said ushering them into the patrol car. Murphy put his arm on his brother's shoulder, trying to encourage him to come with him. Connor felt a surge of strength from his brother's touch. The strength urged him to rise with Father still in his arms and follow his brother into the painted sedan.
The two officers of the law had dropped the two vigilantes and their fallen comrade off at the boundaries of the woods. The brothers had asked to be left here. It was here they would lay their father to rest.
They hiked into the woods to a clearing. The clearing was completely shrouded in darkness and surrounded by trees on all sides. The two placed their father on the grassless, dirt ground. They positioned two copper coins on his eyes as they always did.
Like poor beggars, the two brothers simultaneously knelt in front of their father. They began to use their bare hands to pierce the damp earth, removing the intrusive particles of dirt which lodged themselves under their fingernails. They continued this digging for hours.
The sun was almost up and dawn was almost upon them. They had just finished lowering their father into the ground and Connor and Murphy seized a wad of dirt, saying their final good byes and began to cover Father in soil. They created a makeshift headstone from rocks near the burial sight. Neither brother had tears in their eyes, Connor only had anger, Murphy had surprise. He distinctly saw someone hide behind a tree.
The long dark hair could only be one person. Murphy couldn't believe who he saw. He whispered into the thin air, "Rocco?"