Letters from Ireland (Prolouge, Beasts in the Night)

"Face down in the gutter, won't admit defeat..."
Colton Connors grimaced. The bleeding was worsening.
"His clothes are soiled and black..."
The splotch was spreading across his suit. Colton turned his head.
Yes.
His pistol. Only a few inches away.
"He's a big strong man with a child's might..."
Colton smiled as his fingers grasped the cold steel.
No. O'Rien was there, coming out of the darkness.
"Good bye, boss."
They both raised their guns.
There was a single shot.
"Don't ya take his booze aw-ay..."

Brian awoke screaming. His heart was racing, and the room spun into a frighteningly dark blur.
It's over, Brian. The dream's over! Snap out of it!
Brian took a deep breath, and wiped his brow.
The same dream every bloody night. His father, laying on the cobblestones, a Dropkick Murphys song playing in the background.
And then, the gunshot.
The gunshot, the most terrifyingly real thing he had ever experienced in a dream.
Worse than those nightmares when he was a young lad, where beasts with large fangs chased him through the darkness.
Brian scratched his back, and rolled out of bed. He picked up his cellphone from the nightstand, and checked the time.
March 17th, 1:02 AM
Ah, yes. St. Patties day.
Brian pulled open his curtains, to a view of the Boston skyline, bathed in green light for the occasion.
Brian opened the sliding glass door that led to his seventh story balcony. The night air was cool against his skin, and a light breeze ruffled his brown hair.
The lights of the city twinkled in the harbor, bright dots covering the inky black surface of the water.
It was beautiful.
Brian yawned, and reasoned he should probably return to bed. He and Stephen were on stakeout duty tommorow.
He clicked off the balcony's lights, the darkness evenloping him.