Septiplier One Shots

Septic Saints

A/N this isn't a crack fic but it is set up in a crack universe. I found this prompt on tumblr that said take your first fandom and then make it collide with your current fandom. I cringed so hard because my first fandom was from a movie series called The Boondock Saints. Honestly I wouldn't be surprised if no one heard of it, the first movie came out in 99 and the second in 05 I think. Anyway, it's a cult movie. Idfk why I liked it so much. Yes I do, I had a huge crush on Norman Reedus. He's now on The Walking Dead as Daryl Dixon. The movie is basically these two Irish brothers who get called in by God to kill evil people. That's literally it. It's a mob movie and very R rated. It's like in the top 50 for most cursing and violence in a movie. I wrote a lot of fanfic for those movies. I don't even like to think about the sin from back then. It's nothing like today. Like that was more twin sin than I ever wanna remember but anywaaaahyy. Anyway any-fucking-way, I thought to myself. You gotta fuckin do this. You just have to do this. You just can't not do it! So here it is.

YOU DONT NEED TO KNOW WHAT BOONDOCK SAINT IS TO READ THIS.

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Jack looked around the streets of Boston, this place was nothing like home. Home was green and safe and beautiful. This shithole was filled crime and sinners. He felt dirty just being here, but he was here.

Jack looked at the people rushing around the streets from one place to the next. At least in his car, he could block some of the insanity out. Pulling a cigarette and placing it between his lips before lighting it, Jack thought back to how he had ended up in America, to begin with.

His twin cousins had ended up in some deep shit and rang home for help. The whole family had sat down at the local bar and discussed what to do before decided someone had to go over and act as a cover. Someone young, that would convince the cops that his cousins weren't doing anything wrong. Well the federal law that is, his cousins had gotten close with the local law apparently. They were real pieces of work.

Someone young turned out to be him and next thing he knew he was being shipped off to America with an address and a couple American bills in his pocket.  Jack remembers stepping off the boat and grimacing. America was fast and crowded.

Jack had gone to the address and cursed loudly when he got to the apartment. It was a shitty one room flat with what looked like two beds, a moth-eaten couch, a barely functioning TV, and empty cans everywhere.

Also, there was fucking no one home. 

Jack sat on the couch for what felt like hours watching channels that came in and out through the static of the beaten up ancient tv when he heard the door open. He watched his cousins stumble in without even noticing him. He hadn't seen them since he was in school, maybe even younger. They looked still looked the same as they had back then, they may be twins but they never looked the same.

Connor, of course, barged into the room first. His sandy hair was all over the place as if he had just been fucked. He was always the showman of the two of them. The one to start throwing fists and yelling.

Murphy, in stark contrast, silently followed his twin. The dark haired counterpart noticed Jack first and smirked at him, "Con."

Connor spun around from his previous task of looking for a can of beer, "What, Murph?" Murphy didn't even bother answering, instead, he followed his twins eyes to the dimly lite corner of the room where Jack sat, "Well fuck me. It's lil old Sean!" Connor ran at him and pulled him out of his chair and in for a bear hug, "Lord fucking Christ, you're bigger than I remember you. Look at wee Sean all tall and grown."