Interesting arrivals.

Vulgar rock music strummed softly throughout the quaint little bar in downtown Boston, Massachusetts in the wee hours of the morning-the precise time being 4:22AM.

A tall ash blonde woman hummed along with the beat and sashayed her hips as she squeezed the mop of its murky water into the bucket beside her, putting the cleaning instrument into the clean water next to it and then smacking it to the cold concrete floor and sliding it around, cleaning up the after effects of the few retired military men who’d came in for a few drinks and to shoot some pool earlier.

The bar itself was considered fairly normal by the average Boston standards, with just enough room for the bar counter and roughly three small tables, but what it lacked in width it made up for in length, the establishment managed to be long enough for two pool tables to fit in the back and a small break/storage room behind them.

It wasn’t a glamorous hang out fit for the wealthy and highly esteemed, no. it was fit for the social rejects and delinquents of the city, what with its worn bar stools and dinged up bar top, it wasn’t really high class, but it certainly had character.

It’s owner, the heavily tattooed blonde who was enjoying her few moments of peace before she’d head upstairs to her apartment that was attached to the bar, picked up the mop and buckets, strolled towards the back door so she could dump the water out and then lock up so she could go to bed.

Still humming, she pushed the door open with her back and took a few steps over to the storm drain, putting one bucket down and lifting the other to dump it out without splashing herself.

She didn’t bother looking up and around the back alley; she’d done it enough to know where everything was exactly, so she instead thought on what she was planning on doing in the next few hours when she woke up from her nap.

Distracted by her own thoughts for the moment, she didn’t hear the stumbling footsteps until they were nearly fifteen feet away from her. Lifting her head up and expecting to see a bum or maybe even an amateur mugger staring back at her, the sight she got was certainly not anywhere near that.

A tall man in a black jacket and stonewashed jeans stumbled towards her with blood dripping down his face from a gash on his forehead and various rips and blood coming from his legs, in his left arm he held a bag and his right he was gripping another tall man in a matching black jacket that seemed to be in a worse condition as they neared closer, he seemed to lose his balance and they both dropped to the ground in a loud thump, groans emitting from the both of them as they made contact.

Unsure of what to do, she reached behind her pulled out the Smith&Wesson she kept in the back of her jeans and creeped closer to the bodies, her finger on the trigger in case one of them made a move for her while she checked up on them.

“We’re not gonna hurt ya, we just need some rest” The rough Irish accent of the one who was carrying his buddy previously stated, his arm flung over his face and his chest rising and falling in shuddering intakes of breath.

“I’d say you need more than just rest, but I assume you already know that” her own accented voice came out in its usual gruff English accent, surprising the man lying down into raising his arm to look at her with olive green eyes.

A grunt from beside him interrupted their would-be staring session and he immediately scrambled up into a sitting position to check over his friend, whom was moaning and trying to sit up against the other dudes will.

“I fuckin’ told you it wouldn’t work, now look at ya” he sighed and looked back up at her before he quickly turned his head away to swear under his breath and the turning back to her to stare at her.

Quirking her eyebrow while still holding the gun pointed at him, she waited for him to either say something or make a move, when he looked back at his friend and swore again, she figured he might actually say something now.

“I know this looks strange, but my brother needs help and you’re the only one around, can ya help us or not?” temporarily unmoving as if she was in thought, Evan stared at him for a few moments before she sighed and her body slacked, she flicked the safety on and put the gun back and then reached in her cleavage to pull out a cell phone, dialing the number 3 and waiting for the person to answer.

“Are you mad woman?” a husky voice answered on the fourth ring, clearly she’d been either asleep of very busy with someone. “Frequently. I need you at the bar in ten”

“Ugh, you only call me this early for help hiding a body or to get shifaced and I still haven’t recovered from Sunday” she whined into the phone and the blonde rolled her eyes.

“Just get down here and bring the kit”

“Wait, are you hurt?”

“Yeah, I’m bleeding out from my kidney”

“The sad thing is, I’m not sure if you’re being sarcastic or serious” The way she said that made the blonde chuckle before saying her goodbyes and hanging up, putting her phone back in her cleavage.

“Alright, let’s get you two inside and see what we’re dealing with” She reached her hand out and the one who was the most conscious took her hand and let her pull him up, the both of them bending down to grab an arm of the brother and haul him up so they were carrying his weight.

“How fucking tall is he?” She spat, trying to gain her balance back in her three inch heeled boots that made her 5’10 and still not tall enough to drag him to the door without a struggle.

“Which door is yours?” The other guy asked, holding his brother up without a single problem and ignoring her question which was probably the smartest thing he could do, seeing as she was about to shank the fucker she was carrying because he was too fucking tall!

“The one on the left, it’s unlocked” She directed him and they fumbled forwards, both managing to open her door and stagger into her back room of the bar without tripping or dropping the guy, and then when they reached the pool tables she told him to help her lay him on one, pushing the balls away and immediately taking off his jacket.

“What’s your names?” She asked as she slipped his shirt off while the other guy climbed on the other pool table and sprawled out like he’d just ran a marathon.

“Murphy, and my brother there is Connor”

“Evan” She inspected Connor’s upper body and took note of the bullet wound on his left shoulder, the cuts and scrapes along his torso, and the two bullet grazes on his chest that no doubt would need stitched.

She sighed and walked over to the bar, pulling the bottle of whiskey she was drinking before she had started cleaning over the top and two shot glasses along with it, returning to Murphy and nudging him to sit up and scoot over so she could sit next to him.

“I’m not gonna ask what happened because I’m fairly certain it was highly illegal and you don’t want me to know, so instead I figured you’d like something to drink” She poured some of the whiskey into a glass and handed it to him, pouring her own and shooting it back along with him.

“I appreciate the help, especially since I know anyone else would’ve ran from us” he replied and she nodded, pouring them both another glass just as the bell on top of the door rang and the same husky voice from the phone called out for Evan.

“Pool table” she shouted back and in came a tall redhead with her hair in a neat French braid draped over her left shoulder, she wore a white leather jacket, a black tank top, a pair of black shorts that might as well have been hot pants that revealed the bottom half of her Cobra tattoo and the large cross on her left calf, and a pair of black combat boots on her feet.

“Well, you certainly left out a few details” She drawled out, glaring at Evan for a split second before scanning over the male strewn shirtless on the pool table and the one beside her friend with blood all over the both of them.

Evan shrugged and shot back her shot again, lifting her hand up to point at the guy beside her with a long and rather lethal looking purple nail. “Murphy and his brother lying unconscious, Connor, were walking in the alley out back”

“So you took them in out of the goodness of your heart, right” The redhead crossed her arms under her full chest and stared at Evan with a droll look. “What? It’s not rare, anyways, they’re Irish” as if to prove her point, she nudged Murphy to speak.

“Aye, we are” The redheads face immediately perked up and she grinned at Evan, her hands smacking together and rubbing in excitement. “Why didn’t you say that to begin with? Hi there darlin’ I’m Peyton” she waved at Murphy and then walked over to the side of the pool table where Connor was, tossing the large black bag she had thrown over her shoulder on the table and slipping her jacket off to reveal even more tats on her body and pushed her braid behind her back, unzipping the bag to get ready for what she was about to do.

Humming in concentration, she pulled out the necessary items to stitch the man up and bandage his cuts; with the utmost detail she checked him over and then began to stitch up the grazing’s on his chest and the few cuts that needed it.

After roughly twenty minutes she’d patched him completely up and even had flipped him over to get a good look at his back which had a few cuts as well that she’d tended and now she was standing in front of Murphy.

“This may sound a bit forward of me, but I need you to take off your pants and shirt” she beamed up at him and watched as he pulled the black shirt over his head and then stood up to kick off his boots and unbuckle his pants. “I swear, you can’t even wait until he’s healed to get into his pants” Evan accused from her new perch on one of the table chairs she’d brought over to sit on backwards.

“I need to check out that gash on his thigh, you ass” Peyton replied with her middle finger up at her so-called best friend all the while still keeping her eyes on the man stripping off his pants in front of her.

“I can fix myself up, ya don’t have to” He told her as he sat back down on the table in only his grey boxers.

“It ain’t every day you get to fix up a pair of hot brothers, let alone ones with accents that sexy” she winked at him and her playful expression quickly turned to that of a professional as she examined the large knife wound on his right thigh.

“When ya put it that way, go ahead” she heard the snort from Evan before it even happened and held up her hand to flip her off yet again before returning to his thigh and pouring alcohol over it to clean it up, taking note of how he didn’t even cringe at it like any normal man would and finding it hard not to shove him back and fuck his brains out right there.

“Be careful what you say to her, she may look cute but she’s a hoe” blatantly ignoring her, Peyton rolled the leg of Murphy’s boxers up a tad bit so that she could see the entire wound and start stitching it up.

Her head bobbing up and down with each time she stuck the needle through and pulled the thread, Evan had to look away lest she started laughing hysterically at the sight.

“Is there a reason you just happen to have this kind of medical equipment lying around or are you just clumsy?” Both girls looked at each other and shrugged, their personal life was hardly something up for discussion with two guys who were bleeding from obviously fighting.

“I’ll tell you my secrets if you tell me yours” Evan replied, her eyebrow quirking up in challenge. “Fair enough”

Tying the thread and cutting the excess off, Peyton placed the supplies back in their rightful containers and then climbed up on the table so that she straddled his hips and planted herself rather comfortably on top of his groin, his shocked expression making a smirk snake its way onto her lips as she came face to face with him.

“I can’t see your head wound from down there, figured it’d be easier if I was right here” She leaned in to inspect said wound, her weight shifting to her knees and she raised up a bit so her breasts were at eye level with him.

“While you’re busy molesting him, I’m going upstairs to get some food. Don’t do anything I’d need eye bleach or ammonia for”