Fic: Saints & Martyrs

[csi_sanders1129]

Title: Saints & Martyrs
Chapters: 2/3
Author:  csi_sanders1129 
Genre: AU. Drama. Romance.
Ratings: M, for language, and probably violence.
Word Count: ~3500
Pairings/Characters: Jason/Spinelli. Conner, Murphy, Smecker present.
Synopsis: The Saints of South Boston move on to Port Charles, New York to take out the rivaling mob organizations.
Comments: Okay, couple things. One: lots and lots of character death. It's the Saints, what did you expect, puppies and - you know what? Let's stay away from the Saints and animals. Just to be safe. Two: Ugh, also, this fic takes place in kind of an AU where the Zacchara's aren't around. Three: OC's are mine. All 3 parts are done, I'll post the last part in a day or two. Character's you recognize aren't mine. Enjoy!

“Looks like we’ll be goin’ fer more than jus’ the bodyguards here, aye?” Murphy points out, when they happen upon all four of their remaining Irish targets all in a meeting, undoubtedly over what has already arisen as a result of the Saints’ presence in Port Charles.

 

“So it seems,” Conner agrees with a smirk. “Two ways in. Ya cover the fron’ an’ I’ll get the back.” After his brother agrees, the duo splits up, rounding the building until they stand on opposite ends.

 

In sync, they both burst through their respective entrances and their element of surprise plays out quite nicely. The four men are all scrambling for their guns, and the body guards angle themselves in front of their employer as if that will save him.

 

Conner puts a round through Whelan’s shoulder and another through his stomach, and he goes down before he even gets a shot off. Murphy, in the meantime, works on Lyons, sending him to the ground with a well placed head shot.

 

Left with just Donovan and O’Malley, the brothers find that there is another in their midst.

 

In search of a mobile and evasive Seamus O’Malley, Murphy’s gun lands on one of the girls Smecker warned them about. He’s going to assume its Shannon Connolly, given that O’Malley has taken her up as a human shield.

 

“Conner!” Murphy demands, gun frozen. O’Malley aims the trigger at her head instead of at the younger of the Saints when he realizes that his hostage has stopped their not-so-merciless killing spree. “Fuck, Conn!”

 

“Wha’?” The elder snaps, his focus on Donovan.

 

Murphy, takes in the sobbing woman’s appearance. She’s probably six months pregnant. “Oh, this is jus’ fuckin’ perfect.”

 

Conner manages to urge Donovan toward his enforcer with the aid of his weapon and upon seeing the dilemma that has arisen, his sentiments echo his brothers. “How the fuck’d that happen?”

 

Shannon looks, while hysterical, less than thrilled about her current position. Acting out of her own safety, as well as her baby’s, and with the fact that the intruders seem genuinely hindered by her placement in the room, she shoves her rat of a boyfriend away from her. “Forget this mess.” She declares, and scrambles away from the stumbling man.

 

The brother’s exchange baffled looks at this turn of events.

 

“The hell are you two waiting for?” Shannon asks, her question not directed at O’Malley and Donovan, but rather the strangers, even as her now presumably ex-boyfriend curses at her. “Shoot the bastard!”

 

“Don’ ‘ave to tell us twice.” Murphy answers, and squeezes the trigger while Conner keeps his gun trained on the group’s leader. Another kill shot, and Seamus O’Malley becomes another name they can cross off their list.

 

Conner steps closer to their final Irish target. “Murph, take her outside or somethin’, will ya?” He insists, and Murphy complies, leading her into the adjoining room. There’s only one exit, which Murphy blocks, just in case, and then returns to help Conner dispatch Donovan.

 

“C’mon,” Murphy says, dragging the now unarmed Callum Donovan to the center of the room. He knocks the man to his knees and he and Conner step up behind him.

 

“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. And we shall flow a river forth to Thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be. In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.” They fire off their shots in unison, and the body slumps forward rather ungracefully.

 

 Shannon leans out the doorway to the room once the gunshots end. “Um, are you finished?” She asks, and steps back out to join them when they answer. She avoids looking at the blood covered walls and floor, and especially the bodies. “…Thank you?” She supplies, awkwardly.

 

“Er, you’re welcome?” Conner answers, just as awkwardly. “Ya should get outta here b’fore the cops show up. Do ya ‘ave anywhere ya can go? Someone to, ugh, help out?” He gestures to her belly.

 

“I… I have an apartment and some cash.” She supplies, as the boys pocket their weapons. “But, my good for nothing boyfriend just tried to get me and his baby killed, so, no. No one.”

 

The brother’s exchange yet another look. The blonde one grins.

 

“Mum?” Murphy questions, already catching on to his brother’s plan. It will give the girl someplace safe, away from any remaining mob associates and the police, and keep the witness to their crimes an ocean away.

 

“Mum.” Conner echoes, and Murphy laughs at him. “Oi, she’s always wanted a girl.” He turns back to Shannon. “Y’ever been to Ireland?”

 

***

 

“What’re you doing?”Milo inquires, as Spinelli types frantically away at his laptop.

 

It takes a moment for the Jackal to respond due to his intense focus on the information flying across the screen, but eventually, as he makes quick work of an informational databases core systems, he seems to find what he’s looking for. “The Ace of Cyberspace is attempting to prove his vigilante conjecture as nothing but pure fact.”

 

Milo sits beside the hacker on the couch. “And how’re you doing that?”

 

“The Latin verse Maximista and I heard when Defense Doyle was slain translates to ‘In name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit.’ It’s a prayer. The information currently being Jackal’d involves any killings that involve it.”

 

The computer beeps at him, suggesting that it has completed its search of the database.

 

“Oh. That is quite alarming.”

 

“What?” Spinelli turns the computer toward Milo, so he can read the number himself. “102!?”

 

Spinelli nods, a twin look of shock on his own face. He reclaims the computer and scrolls through some of the information. “Some of which are multiple murders, it appears.”  All of the names on the list seem, upon further research, to have been bad men. Whether suspected or confirmed, no one on that list was an innocent person. Killers, rapists, thieves and extortionists, hit men. Mobsters seem most plentiful on the list.

 

The trail of bodies leads to two brothers, twins actually. Conner and Murphy MacManus. Their father was previously in on the operation, but has since passed away. The Saints, they’re called. They don’t harm women or children, but men are fair game, and they don’t stop till they’ve gotten their targets.

 

 “We must warn Stone Cold immediately!”

 

***

 

Jason and Max are approaching the building that the Irish are known to congregate in when Jason’s phone lets out a shrill ring. Quickly, he grabs the device to silence it, and spots Spinelli’s name flashing across the caller ID.

 

“Yeah?”

 

***

 

Now that Shannon Connolly is out of the way and on her way to the airport, the Saints can focus on their normal post-killing procedures.

 

“Fuck, dy’a hear that, Conn?” The younger asks, freezing in the process of placing pennies on what’s left of Donovan’s eyes.

 

Conner is already staring at the door, and he motions Murphy outside and closer to the sound. They’re ducked around a corner and unseen to the speaking intruders.

 

“S’Morgan and one o’ the bodyguards, right?”

 

***

 

“Okay. I’ll be careful, Spinelli. Don’t worry.” Jason insists, upon hearing of Spinelli’s discovery, and hangs up.

 

Max doesn’t look pleased by the sound of the conversation. “What’d he find out?”

 

Jason sighs, and looks to the building once more. “He hacked into some government site and figured out that he was right about his theory. The guys we’re dealing with have killed countless mobsters and killers in the last 10 years. They’ve never been caught.”

 

“Oh. Great news.”

 

***

 

"What we coulda done with a wiz kid like that on our side, yeah?" Conner muses, as they eavesdrop on the conversation. "We should pay 'im a visit soon, b'fore he can find out about our friend on the inside, yeah?"

 

Murphy nods, and checks the ammo in his gun. “If he hasn’t already, ya mean.”

 

Conner pulls out his gun as well, preparing to ambush the two unsuspecting targets.

 

***

 

The sound of the gunshot comes before they even know what’s going on. Then Max is down, fatally wounded, by the time Jason has his gun out. “Max!”He shouts, but he knows the guard is down – it was a head shot after all, and those aren’t particularly survivable.

 

He fires blindly in the direction the kill-shot would have had to have come from and hears faint movements from the area.

 

Another bullet flies towards him, and ricochets off of the wall by him. He ducks behind a nearby crate, and is both grateful and annoyed by the presence of so many of them on the poperty. While they provide him cover, they’re also likely to be providing the shooter’s cover, as well. He continues to shoot at where he thinks the shot that killed Max came from.

 

But then, one comes from a completely different direction, and the bullet grounds itself into his right bicep. He hears the bone crack just before the pain flares.

 

Jason feels another shot fly disturbing close to his head and deems it necessary to get the hell out of there before he ends up like Max and Cody. He slips backwards, gritting his teeth against the searing pain burning in his arm, and runs.

 

***

 

“Smecker said tha’ Morgan and the wiz kid live together, aye?” Murphy asks, even as Conner sulks about having lost their target and then having turned up an empty house in search of Sonny. They’re back at their safe house, restocking their supply of weaponry before they head out again.

 

“Yea, why?”

 

“We’ll go there, take out the kid, and wait fer Morgan to get back.” He makes a quick call to Smecker to update him on their activities and then they’re off, armed with the address from Smecker’s previous briefing. “C’mon now.”

 

***

 

Jason ends up in the ER, despite his attempts to avoid it. He passes out somewhere between the late Callum Donovan’s territory and Kelly’s. Someone must have called 911 for him, and he’s beyond lucky that neither the ‘Saints’ nor any remaining Irish goons happened upon him first.

 

It’s Patrick who catches him in the ER, having flown through triage and quickly landing himself with a doctor. And Jason is just waking up again when Dr. Drake attempts to examine his arm. He pulls away, which his arm seems to think is a bad idea.

 

“Get off of me.” He grumbles, and tries again, despite the pain. Patrick motions two nurses over and their combined effort is enough to give the doctor a good look at Jason’s arm.

 

“Not so fast there, buddy.” Patrick declares. “That’s broken, you’re bleeding, and the police are going to want to have a word with you over that gunshot wound. So, unless you’d prefer to be restrained or sedated, I suggest you stay still and let me do my job.” A long pause and a deathly glare from his patient follow. “Sooner you let me start, the sooner you’re done.”

 

Jason huffs and stops resisting, offering his useless arm. “Fine.”

 

“Glad we could come to an agreement.” Patrick passes him off to one of the nurses. “Get him to x-ray.”

 

***

 

“Has there been any word from Stone Cold or Max?” Spinelli inquires, as he and Milo go about waiting for their return. With orders to stay put, and Milo intent on obeying them, there’s not much else to do.

 

The guard sighs. “Not yet.” He answers, and focuses on making sure the penthouse is secure. “I’m gonna go downstairs and check things out.”

 

Spinelli nods, his attention on his computer, trying to track down any more information on the alleged ‘Saints of South Boston’ – and everywhere else, apparently.

 

Milo exits the penthouse and proceeds down to the ground floor, leaving Spinelli behind.

 

***

 

“E’nt tha’ the other bodyguard? The brother?” Murphy notes, upon spotting the suit clad figure exiting the building’s main entrance.

 

“If he’s any good, he’ll be walking perimeter. We can catch ‘im round ‘back.” Conner points out, and starts to move off toward the rear of the complex, but his brother stops him. “Oi, c’mon. We dunno how much time we’ve got ‘til Morgan gets back.”

 

The younger remains where he stands. “Leave him fer now. We need to deal with wiz kid up there b’fore he can get word ta Morgan. The guard can wait.”

 

Conner rolls his eyes. “And would ye rather ‘ave to deal with the guard now, or later, while we’re tryin’ to fight off Morgan?”

 

“Look, yeah?” Murphy argues, and points to the building down the street. It’s abandoned and partially boarded up. “How ‘bout we grab the guard, get him away from the building and kill him in there?” He gestures up toward the penthouse levels of Harbor View Towers. “So we don’ make it obvious we’re here. The kid already knows we’ll be after him.”

 

“Fine.” Conner grumbles. “Aye, good plan.”

 

***

“Looks like we got lucky.” Patrick says, as he examines the x-ray’s of Jason’s shoulder. “The bullet’s still in there, but you only cracked the bone. Normally it would have shattered, which would have required me to coerce you into consenting to surgery. So...”

 

“How long?”

 

“A while. We need to get the bullet out and give you a cast, and the cops are waiting for you.” The doctor explains. “I’ll go have the procedure set up.”

 

“Fantastic.” He grumbles, as Patrick walks away. He checks the clock - he should really get back soon. If these ‘Saints’ are after him, they’re likely to be after Spinelli, too. “Hope he can stay out of trouble for more than five minutes.”

 

***

 

A well placed bump to the head knocks an oblivious Milo Giambetti into unconsciousness, leaving the twins to carry him to the secondary location.

 

“Fuck, Conn,” Murphy grumbles, with the unconscious man slung over his shoulder. “Why don’ ye carry ‘im fer a bit?”

 

The elder turns to grin at his brother as he leads them towards the abandoned building. “S’easy, Murph. It was yer idea.”

 

Murphy glares, but continues on. “Fucker.”

 

Slowly but surely, they make their way to the building and deposit a stirring Milo onto the ground. Taking out their guns, each brother has one hand steadying the half-conscious target.

 

“W-what’s…. going on?” He blearily stutters out, trying to get his cloudy eyes to focus.

 

“And shepherds we shall be, for Thee, my Lord, for Thee…”

 

***

 

“Alright,” Robin tells him, as she drops the metal projectile on the tray of instruments used to extract it. “That’s done.”

 

Jason remains silent where he sits, and waits for further information.

 

“I’ll just close that up and give you a sling for now, until we can get a cast on that.”

 

***

 

Spinelli has gone upstairs in hopes of using one of the windows in Jason’s room in order to locate the Missing in Action Milo who has yet to return. He sees nothing, and having checked all other available angles, he’s out of ideas – short of going downstairs himself.

 

Before he can resolve himself to do just that – though it very well may mean incurring the wrath of Stone Cold – he hears voices approaching.

 

“Milo?” Spinelli tries, as he peeks around the corner from the steps. “Stone Cold?” Perhaps Milo simply happened upon Jason and Max on their return from… wherever it is that they went. Something is telling Spinelli that no such thing has occurred, however.

 

And his supposition is proven correct when two men, both armed and definitely dangerous, burst in through the front door. Without a doubt, these are Conner and Murphy MacManus, also known as the Saints.

 

Spinelli swallows audibly and ducks back up the stairs. While he is not exactly silent in his motions, he manages to run back to Jason’s room and dive under the bed. It is not the manliest hiding place ever, but it will have to do.

 

“Aye, I think I heard ‘im come up here.” He hears a voice say in a distinctly Irish accent.

 

Spinelli bites his lips and tries not to breathe for fear it will give away his hiding place. Just a moment later, he sees boots approach and circle the bed.

 

“Dunno wha’ the pink room is for, but he e’nt in there.” Another voice says, and now both sets of boots are in front of him.

 

The shrill sound of Spinelli’s cell phone utterly ruins his better-than-he-thought hiding place. The ringtone suggests that it’s Maxie. And she could not have picked a worse time to call him. His hand shuffles through his pocket for the device and he attempts to silence it, but he’s too late, instead of boots, he now sees knees. And then hands.

 

“Ye are a hard one ta find, Mr. Spinelli.” One of the voices says, and now two heads come into view. One blonde and the other brown haired.

 

“The Jackal must warn you, that while he may not be well-trained with a firearm, he does, in fact, have f-fists of fury!” Spinelli hopelessly declares, even as the brunette one grabs his ankle and drags him out. He tries to cling to the bed frame, but the other waves his gun in Spinelli’s direction and he relinquishes his grip.

 

The two brother’s exchange looks once Murphy has hold of his captive. “Oi, you’ve got ta be shittin’ me.” He says, upon looking this supposed FBI-watch-listed character over. He looks like a college kid. Not someone wanted for treason. “We sure this is the right one?”

 

“Damian Spinelli?” Conner asks, and their hostage remains silent, but that is enough to answer their question. “Aye.” He takes the phone from Spinelli’s pocket and checks the call log. “Doesn’t look like he’s talked ta Morgan since earlier.”

 

Spinelli renews his struggles now that Conner’s gun is aimed elsewhere. “Stone Cold will make you pay dearly, Brotherly Butchers!” Spinelli declares, kicking and railing against Murphy’s hold on him.

 

The younger brother snorts at him, clearly not particularly amused by the nickname, and let’s go, seeing fit to simply block the door. “Easy there, don’ go hurtin’ yerself b’fore we can.”

 

Less than threatened, Conner tucks his gun into his jeans and stands beside his brother as Spinelli looks for an escape.

 

“You… you…. Vigilante heathens!” Spinelli snaps, letting his vocabulary do the fighting for him. “Perhaps you could pull the wool over the eyes of others, but the Jackal is aware of your bloody and merciless past!” He rushes forward again and attempts to wrestle the gun from Murphy’s pocket, but Conner’s gun is out and aimed again.

 

With the gun pressed against the back of Spinelli’s head, the hacker stills in his movements. “Sit down. Now.” Conner growls, and leads the boy back to the edge of the bed, only pulling away once their foolishly brave captive is seated. “Do not move.”

 

Spinelli is still babbling away as the two draw the blinds in the room and block the door. “Kill me if you must, but please do not harm Stone Cold.” Spinelli says quietly, as he watches Conner’s gun intently.

 

Murphy pulls out his own gun, too. “Now that’s one I haven’ heard b’fore.” He comments.

 

“When’s Morgan comin’ back here?” Conner demands, ignoring the pleadings of the panicking computer hacker.

 

At that question, Spinelli freezes, seeming to realize their ulterior motive in not shooting him then and there. “The Jackal… does not know. Perhaps he wisely fled our humble town already.” He lies, because he knows Jason wouldn’t do that with all that’s going on, even though it would be smart.

 

Conner shakes his head. “Ya believe that, Murph? I don’ think Morgan would go runnin’ anywhere. S’how the mob works. Ya don’ jus’ get to walk away.”

 

Spinelli bites his lip and drops his head. “The Jackal would not tell you Stone Cold’s location even if it was known.”

 

“How noble.” Conner snorts, and returns to flipping through Spinelli’s phone. “Assumin’ that this ‘Stone Cold’ person ya keep ramblin’ about is Morgan, it looks like we can jus’ call ‘im up ourselves.” Conner sits down besides their hostage on the bed. “Yer gonna talk to ‘Stone Cold’ fer us. Tell ‘im anything about Murph and I bein’ here, and we’ll kill you slowly. Tell ‘im that ya need ‘im to come back here. Nothin’ else.” Conner sets the barrel of his gun against Spinelli’s kneecap and puts his finger on the trigger, and Murphy sits on his opposite side, his gun pressed to Spinelli’s head. “Got it?”

 

Spinelli manages a weak nod.

 

Conner puts the phone on speaker and dials the contact dubbed ‘Stone Cold’.  

 

It rings once, twice. On the third ring, Jason picks up. “Spinelli, you okay?”

 

Spinelli closes his eyes, prepared for the inevitable. They’re going to kill him anyway, so why draw Jason into it, too? “Stone Cold, I love you. Please don’t come home.”

 

A gunshot echoes through the room.