NationStates Jolt Archive

Nights had a tendency to get very dark up here in the wild Clohinne hills. Dark, and cold. The moon was hardly a whisker in the sky, and just enough to illuminate short puffs of breath as he waited in silence. He pulled a trench coat tighter about his form to ward off the chill, but he’d already been waiting hours. Volunteer M was a patient man, and the idle hours only bothered him slightly. He resisted the urge to pace, and only bounced slightly on the balls of his feet, or shifted his weight from one foot to another when the need to move was too great. And when the night's chill seemed at its worst, a cigarette did much to take the edge off.

He had just lit up another when a slight but recognizable sound drifted across the field to him. Voices. Voices, and the rhythmic crunch of boots across the frosty ground. The foot patrol he had been waiting for was finally making its appearance. Deftly, and with a comfortable silence many found chilling, he prepared. The soldiers were in a team of five, and emerged along the footpath through the line of trees separating forest from the far side of the field. With a cigarette still perched between his lips, Volunteer M brought his Armalite to bear, took aim on the lead man, and squeezed the trigger. The soldiers reacted predictably as their lead man dropped, and fired sporadic shots in his general direction and in others. Volunteer M was safely nestled in the tree line himself, and therefore hard to spot. Calmly, he took aim at the second, then the third, squeezing off one burst after another. The remaining two fled into the safety of the trees, and by the sounds of their shouting, were not likely to return. He listened to their retreat for as long as he could hear it, finishing his cigarette in the meantime.

Those men across the field called themselves soldiers, but everyone knew the truth of it. Everyone that mattered, anyway. They were nothing more than bigots and mercenaries. They called themselves the Unification Forces, but as far as sentiments in this province were concerned, they weren’t seeking to unify so much as to conquer. And whatever they might claim, they were not Gaelic soldiers. The national troops were certainly no help to the Cause, but they weren’t directly against the rebels either. It was a strange situation Gaeltach found herself in these days.

A good twenty minutes after the last sounds of retreat, Volunteer M slung his weapon and started across the field to check on his handy work. Two Uni’s lay dead. He collected their weapons and ID before moving to the third. This one was still alive. Volunteer M watched him grimly as the soldier stared with something akin to panic in his eyes. But it was also clear his vision was someplace else entirely. The lad was mortally wounded, his breathing a painful, wheezing sound. His comrades had left him so that the sniper might finish his work. This utter lack of compassion even amongst compatriots disgusted Volunteer M, and he couldn’t help but feel a stab of pity for the lad. The boy was hardly older than himself, early twenties at the most. The kindest thing would be to kill him.. spare him the agony of a slow and certain death. M stood, and made to finish him with a blow to the head from the stock of his weapon... but hesitated. The boy locked his gaze on the would-be executioner just then, his eyes aflame with desperation, and the sniper found himself unable to finish the deed. Instead, he collected the lad’s weapon and ID, and turned away.

The soldier boy managed a weak grab for the edge of M’s coat, and a strained and gurgled “please,” but the sniper shook loose and never looked back. He’d be back to the Boys and the pub before daybreak.

The Horsehead Pub was lit and well-peopled even at this early hour. The boys often played cards well into the morning, especially on nights Mallory was out working. A few of the lads were outside smoking as he approached up the lonely dirt road, and after spotting him, they disappeared inside without a word. Mallory knew the drill. He wasn’t worried about being seen - after all they owned the entire region. Glancing habitually at the few places someone could conceivably hide, he crossed the street and circled around to the back of the Horsehead. A man in his thirties opened the door, and ushered the sniper inside.

“How many?”
“Three.” Mallory laid out the weapons and ID on a table in the center of that small, windowless room.
“Somebody fetch us a pint.”

At the command, another of the boys disappeared into the front room. Mallory was grim-faced despite his accomplishment.

“Two escaped, Connor.”
“Ah, that’s fine lad, that’s fine. Did they get a look at ya?”
“No.”
“Good. Come on then.”

The older man slapped Mallory on the back, and ushered the lad into the front room, where someone handed him a pint of stout, and the rest watched him with silent congratulations. Tonight there would be three less Uni's to contend with. Death and killing were a way of life up here in the untamed Northern Province, and the 19 year old sniper had honed his craft to a science.

----

It was a little before noon when the media got wind of the latest killings outside Dungaven, and the sensationalist bastards milked the story for all it was worth. Sean Kearny muted the story. He'd been listening to the reports for hours now, since before the press caught wind of it, and he was sick of it now. He was the Provincial Councilman and spearhead to the Unification movement. Sure, there was trouble all over the country, but nowhere so concentrated as here. And with the body count growing faster than he would like to admit, the loyal members of his province would be looking to him for answers. Answers he seemed unable to provide these days. Then of course there was the Sovereigness to deal with if things got much worse... It seemed the time had come for him to have a little closed door meeting with UF leaders. It seemed a reprisal was in order.

There was a small community of loyalists just a few miles north of Dungaven, in the tiny village of Tullymohr. Nestled in a valley between two of Clohinne’s more notorious hills, it was something of a safe haven for the Uni’s. A single pass to the north was the only safe means of travel for soldiers coming to deal with the Brotherhood, and even at that it wasn’t completely secure. To try and travel by another route while claiming the wrong allegiance was certain death, as the rebels infested the surrounding hills. Connor’s Pass was Sean’s only real success story in this long held fight. It was little more than a toehold, but if it meant he could move his people into the area, that was a start at least. How he had managed to hold the pass so long was something of a mystery. Occasionally, in the dark hours of the night he wondered if the rebels were actually allowing him to hold the pass. It was a chilling thought.

It was by Connor’s Pass that Sean made his way to Tullymohr now. He traveled on his own, in his personal vehicle for safety. Guards, aides, and the government vehicle would draw far too much attention to himself. After all, it might be relatively safe in the village, but this was still bandit country. Late that afternoon, he arrived at a discreet little pub, and was shown to a private room off to one side. The place was empty save the publican – apparently not yet open for the dinner hour. He enjoyed a whiskey on his own for about ten minutes, before the publican and another man joined him in the room. Both men were prominent members in the UF.

“Gents..” Sean raised his glass.
“You’ve taken a terrible risk coming here, Sean.”
“Well I couldn’t bloody well call, now could I?”

The two UF men exchanged glances, waiting for the councilman to get to the root of his business.

“I presume I don’t have to tell ya why I’m here.”
“Sean, ya know that patrol wasn’t ours. Not from the base here.”
“I don’t care where they were from. You wear the same uniform, they’re yours. Now you and your upper level comrades need to pull your heads our of yer arses before I come down here and do it meself.”
“Alright, alright.. take it easy, Sean.”
“What is it you’re wanting of us, exactly?” the publican’s friend spoke up for the first time.
“What is it I want? I want you do to your fuckin’ jobs and deal with those Brotherhood bastards! They’re giving me a political black eye, and I’ll not stand for it any longer. Now. They came after your family, I expect you’ll return the favor. Am I clear?”

The two nodded quietly. The publican bore a grim expression, while his friend seemed more angry than anything. The councilman finished his drink and set the glass down with an air of finality.

“Now I don’t expect to have to come down here again.”

He left the two to their own devices, and returned to his vehicle outside. The sooner he could leave and get back to the city, the better.

Mallory was dead asleep and in the depths of quite a pleasant dream, when an unnatural rustling woke him quietly. He opened his eyes and laid still, uncertain of what exactly it was that wrested him from sleep. It was quiet outside, and quite still. Almost no breeze to speak of. So what had disturbed his rest? Silently, he slid out of bed and grabbed his gun. There was a faint smell of smoke on the air, and again that distant rustling noise. With a sudden fear, he realized that the sound was neither rustling, nor distant. It was the distinctive crackling of fire. He ran to his second story window just as two strangers in Unification uniforms backed away from his house holding empty petrol cans.

“Out with ya now! Only a few minutes before you burn to death, ya bastards!”

There was no time at all. Mallory dashed down the hall to his young sister’s room. Mairín was only 7, and at present too terrified to even climb out of her bed. Mallory found her squeezed into a corner, crying silently into her knees. He cursed under his breath and scooped her up in his arms.

“Come now, luv, you’re alright.”

His mother was up and wandering the hallway in a sleepy, confused haze. The shouting had woken her before the smell of fire, and the gun in her son’s hand solidified the situation. She looked panic-sticken as something caught alight downstairs, sending the flames into a growing frenzy.

“Mallory, what’s happening?”
“Here, take Mairín outside. Quickly now. Out the side.”

He handed the frightened girl to their mother and ushered them both down the stairs. The heat in the downstairs hallway was intense, but Mallory and his mother both used their bodies to shield the young girl until they reached the kitchen door.

“Out you go,” Mallory insisted, shoving the women towards the door.
“What about you?”
“If they catch me, they’ll kill me. You’ll be fine, ma. It’s alright, now go!”

He practically shoved the women out the door before turning and venturing into the flames once more. He escaped out the back, but no sooner had he stepped foot outside than a pair of rough hands grabbed him.

“Shhhh.. Mal, it’s me. Come now.. quickly.”

It was Connor. The older man led the young sniper quickly and cautiously towards the back of a small garden. Beyond, towards the field stood a few trees and the only place they could conceivably hide. Mallory didn’t stop running until they were well out of sight, and behind an old rotting barn. The four houses on their rural street were all aflame, with the families drug outside to watch their homes burn. The strangers were screaming and yelling, pulling the women’s hair. And finally, they took away all the men. Fathers and sons alike regardless of age were led off to the road and lined up. Mallory could see a few words spoken to each, presumably asking if they were affiliated with the Brotherhood or last night’s killings. And then each was shot. Executed there on their knees before their own families. Mallory was horrified. Half the men weren’t even Volunteers. And the sound of his mother screaming was enough to freeze the blood in his veins.

Word of the fires last night had spread quickly, and a tenative call had gone out for those in the brotherhood. William had begun packing as soon as he had heard and was underway even before day had broken. He had made his residence a few villages over so it was not a long journy. He arrived in the Horsehead around midday. The atmosphere in the pub was gloomy to say the least, but there was a healthy undertone of anger as well. That was good, at least for the resistance. Anger bread dissent. William found himself an empty table and set his pack and rifle down on it. A few uneasy glances drifted his way, but William shrugged them off. After a night like last, there was more than enough reason not to trust an outsider. Chances where that there was someone else in the resistance in the pub and they would do one of two things. Either they would report Williams presence to a higher up or they would realise that he was also a brother, then they would report his pressence to the higher ups. Either way, William had to be patient. For now at least. He ordered a pint and took a seat at his table.

Mallory sat at the bar in the Horsehead, staring at his tumbler of whiskey. It was more than apparant his thoughts were elsewhere. He and Connor had been forced to wait by the old barn, watching while their houses burned to the ground. Mallory had felt the overwhelming urge to shoot the Unifiers down beside his friends, but wisely did nothing. There were far too many, and he had far too few bullets. Besides, the first thing those bastards would do is kill the rest of the families. The question that burned in his brain was why. The answer, unfortunately was far too simple. At first he thought the Uni's had figured out his involvement, but it was soon apparant that it was nothing more than a random attack. Connor and the local brigade were careful not to overly involve civilians, but if they had to die, it was the Uni's to blame. It was their own allegiance to blame. But here the soldiers were openly attacking civilians, and no doubt they would explain it away that they had some "intelligence" there were rebels there.

His attentions gradually turned to the present as a stranger entered the bar. The fact that he was openly carrying a rifle wasn't strange, but the fact that he had brought it here caused concern to most of the boys present. The stranger took up a seat near him. Mallory eyed him over his shoulder, then lifted his glass in greeting. Although he was the youngest in the local band, the other lads were looking to him to test out the waters.

"Greetings there, stranger.. Bit early for a pint, I think, but your next is covered. What are you havin'?"

William regarded the other fellow for a moment. He was a bit younger than William, but not much. He offered a half hearted smile and a handshake.

"Name's William. And an ale will do just fine, thanks."

Will sighed and looked back over his shoulder at the door.

"These days its never too early for a pint."

Connor stepped behind the bar and eyed Mallory. It was evident he was willing to let the young lad handle it on his own. As a test almost. He poured William's drink and set it on the bar. The other men present watched the exchange quietly, some more discreetly than others. Mallory sipped his whiskey with a quiet grunt of agreement.

"True enough. But there are many reasons that drive a man to drink."

His gaze drifted noticably to William's rifle. It was a subtle game they were playing, and one that could never be careful enough. Connor and Mallory both suspected the reason for the man's sudden appearance, but with the Specials working under the UF, one could never be too careful. There was simply no margin for error.

"I suppose you've got a point. But nobody said that I only had one reason."

He winked and took hold of the mug that the man behind the bar had poured. The man looked familiar, sort of. Still, one couldn't be too sure. He dipped a finger in the drink, then licked it. No poisen, least, none he was familiar with. Satisfied, he took a good sized sip.

"If yas don't mind, I'd like to come directly to the point, mate."

He leaned back in his chair so that the two were close enough to speak without being overheard. Or so it would have been in a normal bar. However, the others had fallen so silent they would hear anything he uttered above a whisper. It was strange, but this 19 year old kid was viewed by many as a leader. Connor and The Surgeon were both the technical leaders, but there was no question young Mallory held the loyalty of the brigade as well. Regardless of how this exchange played out, the situation was potentially dangerous, and most parties in the room were on guard.

Mallory lowered his voice to a level few not in the immediate area were likely to overhear.

"What is it you're doin' here?"

Clearly everyone in the room knew the boy who was talking to him and from the looks on some of the faces most regarded the boy in high regard. Now he was sure that this lad was a friend. That or this village was one of the minorty in these parts. William prayed for the former.

"At the present, I'm enjoying my pint. But later on, I'm expecting to get my hands the bastards with the fetish for fire. And, from the looks of the things, I'm not alone."

"Sure an' you might not."

He glanced sidelong to Connor, who nodded and disappeared into the back. Some of the other lads in the pub exchanged glances, but all were silent.

"Come with me. We should talk."

His tone was friendly enough, but it was clear his message was considerably less than a request. Mallory stood and finished his whiskey, then waited calmly for William to stand and escort Mal into that back room.

William smirked and stood. As he passed the boy, he whispered in a husky voice.

"You're suspicious. Good."

He patted the other man on the shoulder, then contenued towards the door to the back. He didn't look back and didn't hesitate, even for a second. This was almost second nature to William by now. I he showed even the slightest bit of fear or anything other than confidence, he would not live to feel the floor when he hit it.

A third local man entered the back room after William, and Mallory brought up the rear. He shut the door behind them all and waited a moment to collect himself before beginning. Connor stood beside the back door, leaning against the wall. The other man stood in a corner, arms crossed silently. The room was mostly bare, with another locked but otherwise unassuming door off to one side. The small table stood in the center, the surface clear.

"I want to be perfectly clear, William. You are in a very precarious position right now, and you'd be wise to choose your words carefully. So I'll ask again. What exactly is it you're doing here?"

The suscpicion was still heavy in the air. That boded very well for this little outfit. It meant that the group would not be easily infiltrated. There was a good number of trained Unif operatives who specialized at doing just that. But there was more than suspicion in the air. The anger that he had felt in the main room was still stronger here in the back. William Descided that he had had enough pussyfoot around the issue, and apparently, so had they. He held his hands out open for second, to show tha the meant no harm, then he reached into his pocket and produced an envelope bearing the seal of the O'Byrne family.

"Perhaps its time I introduce myself properly then. I am William Bailey, and my sister is Caitlin Baily-O'Byrne. And I'm here to help."

He held the evelope out to the young man who had brought him back here. Inside was a letter. Unless one of these men knew what his sister's handwriting looked like, there was no way for them to authenticate it. So his brother-in-law had devised another way of comunicating with him.

"Hold it to a light."

If one was to do so, they would see that the parts of the paper where almost transparent, and that those transparent spots spelled out his orders for his last job. Surely someone in the room had heard about the raid on the Unification Force's armory located at the edge of the Northern Province. The raid had been hidden from the media for fear that the public in other areas would lose faith in the Force.

Mallory was at first a bit shocked at he produced the letter, and understandably tense as he reached to draw it out from his coat. Shock turned to suspicion again as he took the letter, examining the seal. Connor stepped forward as Mal broke the seal and opened the letter. The page at first seemed blank, and Connor instantly set a bare-bulbed lamp on the small table.

"Jaysus.. it's from Eamon O'Byrne.."

Connor took the letter from his young counter part, and read the contents carefully. Twice. He almost missed it the first time - that life-saving wee bit as far as William was concerned. The raid had been one of the most successful missions conducted to date. Sean Kearny and his UF boys had done a bang-up job of diverting the press' attention to avoid a loss of faith in what little support they had 'round these parts. The UF had bombed one of its own barracks, faking a Brotherhood attack for the benefit of the press. This man could still be a Special, and if he'd learned of their watermarked codes, that was a grave concern. What bode well for Willam were two things. First, the letter was written not in English.. not in Gaelic, but in the strange and confusing dialect only those instilled in the Northern Province for centuries could hope to decipher. Second, and more importantly, the letter mentioned the secondary raid on a smaller compound the same night. They had used their own Volunteers placed within the UF to smuggle semtax out of controlled facilities, and even now the UF was not aware of that fact. Their informants within those ranks kept the Brotherhood well informed on that particular issue.

Connor took a moment to digest this information.

"Well then me lad, it seems you've come to the right place. I'm Connor, and my young friend here is Mallory."

"Nice to meet ya."

William nodded to both men, then regarded thw younger again with an approving look.

"He'll do well if he keeps his head about him like he did with me."

He winked at Mallroy, then turned back to Connor.

"I don't mean to be a pain, but hiking all night does have a way of emptying a belly. There wouldn't happen to be a bite to eat 'round here, would there?"

"Don't you worry about Mal. He's as good as they come."

Mallory shifted uncomfortably under the praise, glancing briefly to the back door simply as an excuse to avert his gaze.

"As for the food, I'm sure we can manage something. There's none to compare with the stew here in Dungaven."

With that, Connor opened the door and disappeared back into the main room. He left the door open behind himself, and as usual, Mallory waited to be the last one to exit.

Will turned back to Mallory and nodded towards the door with a slight smirk on his face.

"Go'on lad. I've to fetch me pack and gun. I'll meet ya around the back."

With that, Will pressed back through the door back into the main room. He crossed to his table and downed the remainder of the pint that still sat there. He tossed a few coins on the table, more than enough to pay for the drink. Then he gathered his weapon and sack and walked back out the front door. There had been some curious looks as he exited the back room unaccompanied and gathered his things. Those in the brotherhood would find out who he was soon enough, and those who weren't were better off not knowing. As the door clicked closed behind him, Will turned and started around towards the back of the pub.

Mallory waited in the back room for a time, digesting the turn of events. He wasn't entirely sure what to make of things. After William and Connor had left the room, he was alone with The Surgeon. The man had remained silently in the corner, and now stepped forward as Mallory looked up at him. He simply nodded and passed a handgun over to the young sniper.

"You'll be fine, lad."

Mallory nodded and accepted the weapon. After a quick inspection of the clip and safety, he tucked it into his waistband at the small of his back and adjusted his jacket. Outside, he waited for William to appear.

"There's a good resteraunt just down the road, but I recommend leaving your rifle here, mate.."

Most of the brigade's less concealable weapons were stashed at the pub. After many a raid, it had proven itself to be a safe store.

"O'course. Just do me a favor. Tuck 'r away away somewhere dry. She isn't as young as she used to be."

William checked the safty, then tossed the weapon to the other man. It was clear that the bolt action rifle had seen quite a bit of action, but it was still clean. William shifted his pack a little and tried his best not to let his impatient stomach get the best of him.

Mallory examined the rifle for a moment after catching it. It was a handsome weapon, meticulously maintained. He then stuck his head in the door and tossed the gun to the Surgeon, making sure to relay the message about care.

"She'll be safe, Will."

After securing the weapon, he turned down the road. He produced a cigarette box from one pocket, and withdrew a fag. Lighting it skillfully despite the breeze, he took a long drag, and left the little white stick in his mouth. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets while they walked. When it came to smoking, Mal had the skill shared by all snipers, gunners, bodhran players, and other select professions where one's hands were gainfully employed at all times.

Up the road a bit, he stopped at a small resteraunt owned by a friend of his mother. He opened the door for William, and followed inside.

"Best meal in town, right here mate."

----

Sean Kearny was at his desk bright and early. He sipped strong coffee while going over a proposed change to the Provincial revised code. It was business as usual, but he had half an ear on the news. It wasn't until the reporter began wrapping up the morning brief that he devoted his full attention to the screen. There had been no news of Dungaven, and virtually none about UF activities at all.

Easy, Sean, it's still early. Give them as long as the evening news.

He refilled his coffee, already picturing the furious conversation he would be having with that publican if no one informed him of anything soon.

Will didn't mind being lead around by the other chaps. It was nice to not have to be the one being followed for a change. Plus it was a rather nice day and the breeze felt good. As the men wandered over to the resteraunt, Will took note of the town. It was a little larger than the one he had been previously been residing in. Will never bothered to learn the names of the towns, just on the off chance that he was captured and tortured, he wouldn't even know what the town name was.

As the men stepped walked through the door of the resturaunt the overwelming smell of cooking hit William and realized just how hungry he really was. It was all he could do to keep from licking his lips. Mallory bragged about the place a little, and Will was inclined to believe him.

"It certainly smells like it."