NationStates Jolt Archive

The streets of Belfast were windy and wet, as always in Ireland. Sheamus O'Malley didn't mind. It was part of the reason why he loved Ireland so much. The only problem with the city picture was all the Layartebian soldiers in the streets. Ireland had been under occupation for quite some time now, and that was a thorn in Shaemus' side. Because Shaemus loved Ireland and wanted Ireland free under the shamrock. He really wanted a free Ireland. He wanted it so much that he was willing to kill and die for it. That, combined with a burning hatred for the Layartebians and their occupation of Ireland were about to culminate. Shaemus looked over at the soldiers in Ann Street watching the Queen's Bridge.

'The devils'll be dead just about...'

There was a massive explosion on the Queen's Bridge just then, caused by 100 kgs of Semtex hidden inside one of the cars driving across the bridge. The destruction was sure to be massive, and there had to be much loss of life.

'...now.'

Shaemus O'Malley stroked his red beard gently before he walked away, heading for the nearest pub for a Guiness and some good drinking songs before the evening service and confession in his local Catholic church.


*****************


Ten minutes later, the Layartebian-run news station Belfast TV got a phone call from a voice speaking with thick Irish accent.

"This is a recorded message. The bombing on the Queen's Bridge in Belfast earlier was conducted by valiant soldiers of the Irish Liberation Armys Belfast Brigade. We'll continue to detonate one bomb a day untill the Layartebian bastards cease their senseless and cruel occupation of Ireland and return to their homeland. Those Irishmen who die will die a heroic death for Ireland."

Mary O'Brien was sitting in her office, looking at the a photo on the wall. It was a panoramic view of the city of Belfast at night. It was taken just before the Layartebians seized control of Northern Ireland, following the humiliating defeat of Kriegograd. The territory had been ravaged by the Plague, hardest hit of all of Ireland. Some 28% of its population died, most of them from the disease. Approximately 4% were suicides. She had the figures in front of her and she was supposed to release them, officially, but unfortunately something drew her attention away.

First there was the flash. Her office was about three quarters of a kilometer away from Queen's Bridge. The flash was enough to shake her from her seat. Instantly, the building shook and the window shattered into a million pieces, most of them no bigger than a finger nail. The noise deafened her and made her ears ring. Knocked over from the shock wave she fell onto the floor, just able to see over the windowsill and see the rising cloud of smoke and flames from the bridge.

For a full half kilometer, shards of metal and glass pierced through walls, windows, cars, people, and everything else in the way. A shard of white, hot metal flew through her window and lodged itself onto the desk, no more than six centimeters from where she was sitting. It was a close call.

"Governor! Governor!" The voice came from outside, from the door that was blown off its hinges. The governor heard everything through muffled ears, ringing, and wooziness. "Governor, are you alright? It was her aide, who had come in from the waiting room to see if the governor was alright. Barely thirty seconds had passed and already panic set in.

"What?" The governor yelled. She could barely hear herself. "My ears. I can't hear anything. What just happened?" Blood trickled down from her forehead.

"Governor, you're bleeding. Are you alright?"

"What? Talk louder."

"Here let me help you up. Sit down here." The aide picked up the toppled chair and looked at the metal shrapnel dug into the desk. He took a gulp, looking at the sharp edge. It was big, about thirty centimeters in width, at its longest point, and maybe twenty at its shortest. It was about that long as well, jagged, taking on no clear shape except that of a torn and damaged rectangle. "There was an explosion on Queens Bridge. Look out the window."

The governor collected herself for a second and looked out of the window. "What on Earth was that?"

"A car bomb maybe? There's a lot of shrapnel everywhere. Hear that? Those are car alarms. It was a powerful explosion." The cacophony of car alarms filled the air, the fire and smoke in the distance wafting its stench into the governors office. "Let me look at your forehead, you're bleeding pretty badly." The aide had served as a medic in the military and was adept to the task. He saw a deep wound, requiring stitches, but nothing too serious. "I need a cold compress, a towel, and the first aide kit." He yelled. He planned to do the operation right there, he had to, it was the only way. The first aide kit contained enough stitches, a blood clotting agent, and alcohol for disinfection. It contained a topical anesthetic too.

The aide went to work quickly, the scene outside progressing. They could see people running to the bridge, car alarms still radiating in the distance. Now the incessant sound of the ringing phone dug into her head. The governor wasn't in the best condition and her head was pounding. The phone only made it worse. "Get me the phone damnit!" She yelled as her aide applied the anesthetic.

"Here. I have to stitch this up now." He handed her the phone and began to stitch the wound.

"What! Yes I know there was an explosion! I have no friggin window you moron! Yes! A car bomb? How many? Alright. Give me fifteen minutes. My head is bleeding!" She slammed the phone down. "Bloody jerks. We've got at least forty dead, sixteen cars destroyed, shrapnel and broken glass for two kilometers, and a lot of wounded people. The army is in the streets trying to keep order and medical personnel is on the way. Ouch! That bloody hurts!"

"Sorry. Mind this for now!"

"Hurry up, we need to get down there!"

The scene at the bridge was ghastly. Blood and body parts littered the roadway. Chunks of metal, rubber, and shards of glass peppered everything for two kilometers. Windows were shattered for that far as well. Immediately, traffic was backed up throughout a quarter of the city.

The governor and her entourage had to walk down to the bridge, under the protection of armed guards, a dozen of them, holding up M30A1 Assault Rifles.

"Look at this madness!" The governor yelled as she surveyed the scene approaching the bridge. Firetrucks were having trouble getting to the scene and the flames of the blast burned uncontrollably, spreading to at least a dozen cars around. The shockwave alone knocked cars off the bridge, pushed others back, and flipped others over.

"Ma'am. We're going to have to close off this scene for an investigation."

"I understand but let's contain the situation first. I want the units here to put out this fire and the medics here for relief."

"Yes ma'am. What about the cars in the river?"

"We'll have to worry about those later. Get divers in there to see if there are people."

"Yes ma'am!"

It was a quick walk and they arrived shortly. The heat of the fire was felt four hundred meters away and the smoke reached up at least a kilometer, covering the whole area, and spread the smell throughout the whole city. By now, everyone knew there was a fire, somewhere...

Shaemus watched as the ripple effect from the bomb put Belfast a blaze, but thought nothing more of it. The Layartebian dogs deserved it. With these thoughts in mind, Shaemus O'Malley walked into McManus' pub and ordered a pint of Guiness. Looking around, he saw Colm O'Brien and Miles O'Connor sitting in a corner booth, watching the door while talking and drinking. A good folk song ("Whiskey in the Jar!") was on the speakers, and the pub was dominated by the smell of Guiness, cigarette smoke and pictures of Leprachauns, shamrocks and other Irish symbols. The owner, Patrick O'Toole was behind the counter cleaning a glass. He was a fierce patriot, and hated the Layartebians almost as much as Shaemus did. They were relatively safe in here, and just in case, Patrick kept two loaded AK-74s under the counter.

"Mornin' gents. What do ya think of the... accident on the Queen's Bridge?" Shaemus asked Colm and Miles when he walked over to them with the Guiness in hand.

Colm stood up and gave Shaemus a good hug. They were both members of the Belfast Brigade, and responsible for the bomb. The song on the speakers ended and was replaced with a even better song ("Fuck You I'm Drunk"). The men sat down and started talking.

"It was good man. We sure showed the bastards the lay of the land, eh?"

"Aye. Any news on the deaths?"

"No, not yet. They're probably still pissing their pants."

"Aye. But I don't thik they've got the message. Tommorrow I want another bomb, and some shootings."

"Aye. Miles here is a crack shot. He was in the Garda before the bastards came. Sharpshooter."

"Good. Here's the plan..."

"What do we know?" The governor needed to know what was going on. It had been a half hour since the bomb first detonated. The fires were, somewhat, under control. The main blaze was out, soaked in water from two fire pumpers. Another eight vehicles that had been lit ablaze was out as well but still, six cars burned uncontrollably, they being furthest away from the beginning of the bridge, blocked by rubble, grass, and bodies.

"Governor, we've got a confirmed sixty-two dead, mostly from glass and the shockwave. We have twenty-four on the bridge, the rest for about eight hundred meters, maximum. Shrapnel really did damage. We've got another forty-two wounded seriously and another thirty-eight with non-serious wounds."

"Any criticals?"

"Sixteen governor."

"So that's ninety-six wounded, sixty-two dead."

"Yes governor. There aren't any leads. This could be a suicide bombing but that isn't an Irish thing. It's probably a car bombing with a remote detonator. We haven't been able to find a body in the car, yet. Then again it's too hot to go near still. If there was a body in there, I thought there will be much left of it anymore."

"Aye. We'll have to search the cameras then. Is central command working on this?"

"Yes governor, they're trying to figure out what happened ma'am."

"Keep me updated!"

Across the way, about two kilometers from ground zero. Cameras had been installed long before the Layartebians took over and they watched every street and every corner of Belfast. This enabled the Layartebians, upon entering, to keep such a powerful grasp on crime control. Similiar schemes had been done in Falcon City, Layarteb City, and just about every other major city in the Empire. Crime was, as a result, miniscule, if noticable at all.

Fourteen police officers were monitoring well over sixty monitors. The ones that were directed on the bridge and the area around were of the highest priority. Those were being monitored in a separate room, by six analysts. They were trained for this, highly trained. Each one of them panned through each second of footage, trying to piece together what happened.

OOC: Is this a suicide bombing or did you guys just load a car with explosives and have someone drive it on without their knowing.

OOC: It was a time-bomb. It was set to detonate at that time, and the car was unmanned. It rolled slowly over the bridge when it blew. The driver jumped into the river and survived, and is now headed for McManus' pub.

IC: The men of the Belfast Brigade had stockpiled weapons for quite some time now, skillfully hidden away in churchs, graveyards, gardens, etc. So far, the Belfast Brigade had enough AK-74s, M-16s, AKS-74Us, Druganovs and G-3s to arm more then 15 000 men, as well as tons of Semtex and other explosives. In the back room of McManus' pub, there were seven AK-74s, nine M-16s, two AKS-74Us, one Druganov and eleven G-3s, as well as plenty of ammo for each weapon. Shaemus, Colm and Miles looked over the weapons, but Miles looked especially close at the Druganov.

'This is the weapon. This is the weapon that will kill the traitor bitch O'Brien.'

Shaemus looked at one of the AKS-74Us, and loaded it. It would be his personal weapon.

***********

Meanwhile, on Library and Stephen street, a non-descript blue Toyota Hiace waited for the right moment. Inside were four young Irishmen, armed with G-3s and M-16s, and with a stolen M-249 with plenty of ammo. Their target: The Layartebian army checkpoint at the central library. It was manned by 16 soldiers from the Layartebian National Guard, donning M30A1 assault rifles, M35A1 light machine guns and M42A1 squad automatic weapons, not to mention the M67 frag grenades and M33A2 pistols. It would be a hard fight, but each of the four men were ready and willing to die for Irelands freedom and glory.

As the clock turned to 1300, the car started to roll down the two block distance to the checkpoint, driving in average speed. Then, as it was fifteen meters away, it turned and blocked the street, opened the side door, and Ian, who manned the M249 opened up on the Layartebian soldiers. So did the other men, jumping out of the Hiace and throwing themselves to the ground, firing their M-16s and G-3s.

Inside the control room, men monitoring the cameras had all but pieced everything together. "Here is the scenario." The chief inspector said as he began the playback. "We have a black Mazda 626 ES2000 coming down the bridge. Right here it gets onto the bridge and the nearest car is about twenty-five meters away. It gets sixteen meters down the bridge and here watch. The driver dives out of the car, it keeps rolling, maybe at twenty-four kilometers an hour. Then he dives over the bridge. We have a six second interval between when he goes over and when the bomb goes off. We've got an ID on him. One hundred and sixty-eight centimeters tall, brown hair, light complexion, green eyes, maybe about seventy-five kilograms. We've got a tattoo on his arm too, a Latin word, 'Veritas vincit' means 'Truth conquers.' Then there is the explosion." He looked around. "We get that son of a bitch, we get the rest of them. This isn't a random thing. It seems that the Irish Liberation Army is at it again. They have the Kriegos hell way back when but were brutally beaten into submission. Now the lid is off again and guess what, they're back."

"We have audio too." One of the men said. "It came into the news agency but they didn't air it. Here listen." He pushed clicked onto an audio file on the screen of the monitor. "This is a recorded message. The bombing on the Queen's Bridge in Belfast earlier was conducted by valiant soldiers of the Irish Liberation Armys Belfast Brigade. We'll continue to detonate one bomb a day untill the Layartebian bastards cease their senseless and cruel occupation of Ireland and return to their homeland. Those Irishmen who die will die a heroic death for Ireland."

"Bloody Belfast Brigade. Alright get whatever information we have on them and get it out to the authorities. We're going on raids. Inform Layarteb City and see if we can't get us some extra forces. Mobilize the Special Forces and get them useful, we're going to need them. Compile a list of hideouts as well." Inside the command center, they had data out the teeth. They had enough information on most of the people in Belfast and Northern Ireland to do whatever they wanted. This is where the show was run from, all fire, police, emergency operations, and so on and so fourth. It was all done through here.

***********************************

The first three soldiers didn't know what hit them. The spray of 5.56 x 45mm ammunition pierced through their kevlar and their flesh like nothing. Eight of the sixteen men were outside, relaxed. Their attention was focused on the rising smoke over the south east of the city more than anything else. All three of them hit the ground while the other five, began to react. They took cover behind the barriers as more bullets sprayed into the concrete dividers usually used to block the centers of highways. They sprayed their rifles over the tops without looking, aiming in the general direction of the fire.

The other eight men, who were behind the checkpoint, resting, sprang up. They heard the gunfire and immediately came fourth, keeping covered as well. They could see, four men standing, two of them covered by the car, shooting at the other soldiers. "Guys, we have a vantage point. They don't know we're here. Move down that way, let's get a clean shot. You two, take out the tires on the car. You, hit them hard with the machine gun, and the rest suppress and aim. I want at least one of them alive, alright!" They agreed and the eight men stayed low, behind the library wall and moved quickly, to the point where the car was.

When they were in a clear shot, out of the standard line of fire, the two soldiers sprang up and with their M30A1s shot at the front tires on the cars and the engine block. The man with the M35A1 LMG sprang up as well and opened fire, bracing the rifle on the wall. The other men opened up as well. Nobody had thrown a grenade yet but they were thinking about it!

"Ah shite! There be bastards on the sides!" Sean yelled out just as he was hit in the chest and neck. He fell forward, still firing his M-16 towards the Layartebians general direction. Two seconds later, he died knowing that he died for Ireland.

As the Layartebians popped the tires, the car moved a little as the weight shifted, throwing Ians aim off. Ian kept shooting though, but he had to reload soon. He was down to the last 20 rounds in the ammobelt. John, one of the men with a G-3, jumped into the drivers seat and started to drive the Hiace away. Ian kept on shooting while the Toyota drove away.

Peter, the last man, got hit in the legs by eleven shots, causing him to drop the G-3 and fall forward while yelling out in pain and holding to his legs. He cursed the Layartebians with the wrath of all saints and angels.

The Hiace managed to get away two blocks before it collapsed. The two men inside abandoned their weapons and car and ran for it down the street toward the safehouse, where they would change clothes and slip away.

"We got one!" One of the men shouted as one of the shooters fell face down onto the ground. "Look they're trying to get away." He opened up and hit another in the legs whilst another jumped into the car. The last guy jumped into the car as well and it sped off. The Layartebians kept shooting until it was out of range.

"Is everyone alright?" The team leader screamed. Everyone checked in that they were fine. They proceeded to move towards the other friendlies, who were pinned behind the concrete barrier. They had lost another so only four remained. "Four down." The leader nodded to the radioman.

"Belfast Central Command. Checkpoint at Central Library. We've come under attack by a blue Toyota Hiace, lisence plate number 6-7-8-A-B-H-D. Four men. One dead, one wounded, two escaped, heading north. The car is pretty shot up. We have four KIAs here. Request assistance. Over."

"Central Library Checkpoint. BCC. We're on our way. Aprehend wounded. Over."

"Wilco. Out." The leader looked around. "Get that piece of shit. You three, cover them!"

**********************************

The governor's cell phone rang. "Governor O'Brien. Yes. Thank you." She hung up the phone and turned to her aide. "There's been a shooting at the Central Library. We have four soldiers dead, one of the shooters dead, one of them wounded. Being apprehended now."

Her aide nodded and they surveyed the scene. It had been an hour since the car bombing. The fires were out and the investigation underway. Six of the criticals had died raising the death toll to sixty-eight and the number of wounded to ninety. The blast was definitely not amateur. Initial measures, from the size of the blast area, the shockwave measurements, and other information put the bomb in the realm of eighty-five to one hundred and ten kilograms in size. It was a large car bomb but it could have been worse. They could have put up to four hundred kilograms in that particular car, enough to take out every car on the bridge and severely damage or buckle the bridge. "Governor, where should they take the prisoner?"

"Take him to our facility."

"Understood." The aide spoke quietly over the phone. Basically the shooter was being taken to a classified facility underground, inside the city. The place was run by elements of the 7th Black Operations Unit, Force Scorpion. Housed at the facility were some eight hundred members of Force Scorpion, most of whom were well experienced and trained in interrogation matters.

"Goddamned blasted satans! Die in hell bastards! Ah me legs...! Me bloody legs...! They be bloody...! Arghhh!" Peter yelled out while clutching his shot-up legs.

Meanwhile, Ian and John ran down the alley, ditching their jackets and hoods in the prosess. They had a safehouse just four blocks down the road, at West Street. Problem was that there was a Layartebian checkpoint with another 16 soldiers at Smithfield Market, and they were definately looking for the two Irishmen now.

"Shite man, what do we do?!" John asked, kicking a dumpster in anger. It wasn't supposed to happen like that! They were supposed to kill the Layartebians and make a clean getaway. "What went wrong?!"

"I dunno, I dunno!"

"We've got to do something! They've got Peter. You know that he can't keep his jap shut, bloody bastard. We should have shot him so that he couldn't get a chance to talk. Bloody idiot!"

The two men were angry and frustrated, as well as being virtually unarmed. John had a Glock 17, but that wasn't much against Layartebian assault rifles and machine guns. So they decided to try a bluff.

They walked towards the Layartebian checkpoint calmly, hardly breathing. John had his Glock in hand, with a stolen jacket over so it was concealed. If the Layartebians tried something stupid, he would blow the brains out of the first one he saw, and try to take as many with him to the afterlife as possible.

"Looks like we got us a live one here." One of the soldiers said, pointing his M30A1 down at the bleeding gunman. "Why don't you stand up and give us a hand." He joked.

"That's enough alright." The sound of a siren in the background told them that medical personnel were on the way. However, this ambulance wasn't from the local hospital nor was it going to one. It was going further downtown, to a secret military installation, buried deep underground. It had once served as a military command center for the Kriegorgrad military but now it served as a base of operations for Force Scorpion, a Black Operations unit.

They kept their guns on him as the ambulance approached, a modified Dingo APV, more or less.

*********************************

The scene at the bridge was calming down, slowly. Firefighters and rescue workers were cleaning up their own mess. Investigators were on the scene, looking at the wreckage, investigating the car. They hadn't found a body and they weren't going to find one. The driver bailed. Now they just wanted to get some shred of evidence that they could use but whatever survived the inital blast was surely torched by the fire.

With that the governor was returning to her office. It was a bloody day in Belfast, the opening of a bloody season.

*********************************

The checkpoint at Smithfield Market wasn't busy. It was day time and whilst there had been a bombing and a shooting, the checkpoint was in a majorly populated area. The Irish Liberation Army wasn't about to open fire on them and risk wounding or killing their own blood, that wouldn't be very good for their cause. The soldiers were, obviously, more relaxed. There were only eight of them though, the other eight being on a patrol.

As they stood there, watching over onto the crowd, they saw two men approaching, both looked like that had been running. As they approached, one of the soldiers put up his hand to stop them. "Good afternoon? Feeling alright?"

"Aye." The Irishman replied.

"Get some rest, you look sick. Take care."

"Thank you sir!" The two men walked through and entered the market.

At the same time, the radio came alive. "All checkpoints, this is an all-points bulletin. Checkpoint at Central Library has been attacked by four gunmen. Two escaped. Be on the look out for two Irishmen totting guns and driving a blue Toyota Hiace, lisence plate number 6-7-8-A-B-H-D."

"Two Irishmen? That isn't the whole fucking city." They laughed as they went about their daily life.

The next day

Yesterdays troubles were past, and both John and Ian were ready for another mission. They had made it safely to the safehouse in West street, and they had stayed there as scheduled. Now, they were waiting for further instructions.

The morning skies indicated that today would be a beautiful day. The weather forcast was also promising. Clear skies and sunshine was the word of the day. Shaemus looked at the Belfast skyline from the top of the apartment-building where he lived. Miles was going to get busy today, sniping people at random locations where there were Layartebians.

The first bomb had been placed in the sewers underneath Dublin Road, which was a very busy street in the morning rush. Right now, 70 kilos of Semtex were packed into the street, along with ten sticks of dynamite. It was sure to blow up the street and make a true hell for the Layartebians. At 7.50 AM, the timed charge detonated.

Ten minutes later, with the Layartebians busy trying to sort out the carnage in Dublin Road, another Toyota Hiace raced towards the courthouse. This one would be a suicide mission. Paddy Malcolm, a 74-year old homeless guy and Irish patriot had volunteered for this mission in exchange for a bottle of Tullamore Dew, which he sipped to while driving fast like hell towards the courthouse. There were Layartebian soldiers there, but they didn't expect another bomb this quickly and were therefore caught with their pants down. When they finally responded, it was too late anyway. Paddy had armed the charge of 260 kgs of Semtex, and it would detonate in 5 seconds no matter what happened to the driver. Paddy finished the bottle, drunk like an Irishman and blissfully unaware that he had 3 seconds left to live...

The morning sun came up on time and on schedule. The governor was awake early, looking at the reports from the Queen's Bridge bombing. Structurally, the bridge was sound, nothing wrong, it withstood the blast. Unfortunately, whilst the mess had been cleaned up, the investigation was still underway. The car carrying the explosives had been brought to the police investigation yard and the bomb was being put back together by computers and analysts.

In her office and settled in by 0730, the governor was looking at the intelligence gathered on the Irish Liberation Army. They were strong, with a lot of support from the public. They were mostly former military patriots, trained with paramilitary techniques. They were, mostly, normal folk.

At 0745, the glassmen arrived, carrying a massive sheet of glass for the window. It had been destroyed the day before in the bombing at Queen's Bridge. Repairmen had been able to clean the sill, frame, and office of broken glass. Unfortunately, due to the sheer volume of broken windows from the bombing, they didn't have enough glass to fix them all. Some places and businesses had to wait a day.

Unfortunately, for their sake, they weren't about to have an easy day. At 0750, the city shook again. This time it came from the south. Lucky for the governor, her office wasn't facing the explosion. It came from Dublin Road, which was packed with cars.

First the pavement lifted up, followed by fire, smoke, and dirt. The six cars immediately underneath the lifting pavement were flung upwards, slamming back down onto the ground, only to crash onto more cars, causing a chain reaction of explosions. By the time the chain reaction was over, seventeen cars exploded, four were thrown into nearby buildings, and there was a massive crater in the middle of the road. Once again car alarms echoed throughout the city, smoke billowed, and about a hundred windows were shattered.

"What in bloody hell!" The governor screamed as she heard the echoes. "Not again. Bloody terrorists!" She screamed out of her office as her aide came in. "Yes I know, another bombing. Where!"

"Dublin Road ma'am. Not as serious as the other one but it's bad."

"Get emergency services down there right away. I'm going to get Layarteb City on the phone damnit!"

"Yes ma'am." He left and immediately picked up the phone to call the emergency services command center. Everything that needed to be done had to be done and it had to be done immediately.

Ten minutes later, everything went haywire again. From the northeast, the same direction as Queen's Bridge, another earth shaking, window shattering, and powerful explosion turned Belfast into a certifiable warzone. The explosion came from the courthouse, less than a half kilometer away. This explosion made the one from the Queen's Bridge seem like nothing.

The shockwave not only shattered the new plate glass window that was supposed to be installed in the governor's window but broke every other one in the entire building. The governor was thrown across the room, knocked into a wall, knocked unconscious.

This time the call came directly to the Governor.

"This is a recorded message. The Irish Liberation Army takes the responsibility of todays bombs against Dublin Road and the courthouse, and will continue to detonate at least two bombs per day, as well as various other actions, untill all Layartebians and collaborating traitors are either out of Ireland, or dead. We warned you. Yet you remain. The deaths of the victims are on your hands. Long live Ireland!"

Unfortunately, the governor was unable to take the call when the phone rang. Her aide picked up, listening to the recorded message. The lines were recorded anyway and not only was the message being saved and sent to central command but the phone number as well. This wasn't the movies, there wasn't a need for a thirty-second trace. The number was there, it connected instantly.

When the aide hung up the phone he turned to the EMT. "How is she?"

"Just a minor concussion. She'll be out for a little while longer. We're going to take her in and give her an MRI and check for broken bones and the likes, just to be safe, but she'll be fine."

"Good." The aide put a call into the central command center to find out what the details were. They were sketchy but the situation on Dublin Road was easy to fix. It was a clean-up. Emergency units reported between thirteen and twenty-seven fatalities with another thirty-two wounded, mostly from flying debris. The courthouse, on the other hand, was in bad shape. The explosion was huge, more than double that of the Queen's Bridge blast and it effectively destroyed at least a third of the building. Initial estimates put over two hundred dead with at least double that wounded, there was no way of telling just yet.

Emergency workers were sifting through the rubble, trying to pull out live bodies but, for the most part, they were pulling out parts of bodies. It was a disaster.

The governor awoke on the way to the hospital. Her cell phone was ringing but she was having trouble seeing straight. "My phone...My phone..." She muttered.

"You can't answer it right now. Just lie back governor." The EMT was trying to keep her still. A concussion wasn't the most serious thing in the world but it certainly wasn't anything to wisk off. "Ma'am you've had a concussion and were unconscious. You need to remain still. We're going to the hospital."

"My phone..."

"It's your aide ma'am, he'll call back."

"Answer it...please..."

"Fine ma'am." He picked up the phone. "Governor's phone. No I'm the EMT. She's awake. Under her orders. Very well." He covered the reciever on the phone. "He has the Emperor on the line."

"Give it to me."

"Ma'am."

"Give me that phone or else I'm going to personally see to it that you never breathe again. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am. Here." He handed her the phone and went back to monitoring the EKG.

"Alright, yeah connect me. Alright. Yes sir. How are you? On my way to the hospital. Sorry. Nothing serious. Concussion from the shock wave. I understand. Sir we've had a bombing on the bridge and a shooting at a checkpoint yesterday and now two bombings today inside of ten minutes. A street and the courthouse. The courthouse is almost leveled. Irish Liberation Army sir, the Belfast Brigade. What we have is shoddy, we need more intelligence. Understood. Currently about two thousand National Guardsmen, lightly armed without armor. Armor is south right now. As far as I am aware we've got Bradleys, Abrams', and other IFVs. Understood. Special Forces would help yes. I need a liason between me and the Joint Chiefs. Yes. This situation is going to get out of hand sir. Very out of hand. They have the support of the people here in Belfast. No, I'm not sure sir. Thank you." She hung up the phone. "Now was that so hard?"

"No ma'am."

"Good. Get me to the hospital faster, all hell is about to break loose. Do either of you have family in the city?" She asked both the EMT and the driver.

"Yes ma'am. A wife and two daughters."

"Yes ma'am. A son."

"Get them out of the city tonight. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am." She laid her head back down and called her aide.

"The Emperor will fax instructions to my personal fax. Yes. Authorization. Understood." She hung up the phone again and smiled.

It didn't take more than a half hour for the plan to go into action. Martial law was declared in Belfast, a curfew put into place at 2000 to 0600. Normal civilian law was suspended in favor of military law, for the time being. Armor was going to be moving in from the south. Coming in was a sizeable force of armored units: twelve M1B1 Abrams tanks two dozen M2A4 Bradley IFVs, twenty-four M113A3 APCs, eight M2006A2 Emperor tanks, another ten M2008A1 Dingos and ten M2010A1 Bushmasters to supplement the twenty already in the city, eight M2011A2 Scout tankdestroyers, and a dozen M2015A1 Cobra APCs. That was a lot of armor for one city. There were, roughly, two thousand soldiers inside of the city to begin with. That number was going to triple by nightfall. Special Operatives from Python Force, stationed in Cork, were coming in as well, four hundred of them.

For air support, the army was sending in a dozen AH-6J Littlebirds, eight AH-64D Apache Longbows, eight AH-94A Stalkers, six OH-93B Knightwolf helicopters, and a dozen UH-96A Panthers. Most of the forces of the Irish Autonomous Republic were coming into Belfast and Northern Ireland, where it wasn't secure.

All of this would be achieved by nightfall, after all curfew went into effect at 2000.

Shaemus was very pleased with the damages done to the Layartebians. Now it was time for phase 2, which was going to show the people of Belfast that the Layartebians couldn't protect them.

Miles lay on top of a twelve-story apartment-building, wearing a ghillie-suit specialized for urban combat. He was invisible to the many Layartebian helicopters and satellites unless they knew exactly on the meter where to look, and even then they had to be very close to see him.

The target was in sight. A Layartebian M2A4 Bradley IFV stood guard on a street corner, the commander of the vehicle sticking his head out. That would be the last mistake the Layartebian made.

Aiming carefully, Miles kept the aim for a few seconds before he squeezed out the bullet from the Druganov rifle. The bullet would penetrate the right eye of the Layartebian soldier in half a second.

After he had fired the shot, he quickly packed his things and got inside the building before the Layartebians could find his location. As he walked down the stairs, Miles pulled off the Ghillie suit and dismantled the Druganov. Once it had been done, he picked up a scrambled mobile and called Shaemus.

"It has been done." was all he said before he hung back up. The Layartebian satans could get at little time as possible to track the call. Finished with that, Miles dropped the mobile to the floor and stamped it into destruction. Then he finally left the building and headed for another apartment-building two kilometers away.

The shot echoed throughout the quiet streets of southern Belfast. It was early in the day and the mess from the previous day was being cleared. The official death toll from the street put in at twenty-six, all of them civilians. At the courthouse, one hundred and sixty-five were dead. Combined in both attacks at least three hundred were wounded. That put, inside of forty-eight hours, two hundred and fifty-five civilians dead and four soldiers. Subsequently, three hundred and ninety people had been wounded. Now they were attacking the armored units, focusing on the military.

The commander never saw, heard, or felt the shot that pierced his eye. He dropped into the tank, lifeless, gushing blood. "The commander is down! Where'd the shot come from!" The driver frantically screamed. They looked all around through their thermal sights and their visual sights but came up with nothing. "Goddamnit! We're that shot come from!" The gunner closed the hatch and they moved the commander over. There was nothing they could do.

The gunner looked around as well, through the sights. He trained on a building about one hundred meters away, dead ahead. "I think from up there." He looked around some more. There were, in the rear of the M2A4 Bradley, six infantry dismounts. Five of them carried the M30A3 Carbine and the other one carried a single M42A1 SAW. They each carried two M67 Fragmentation Grenades and one M14 Smoke Grenade, in addition to their rifles, ammunition, knives, and basic gear. The gunner spoke up through his microphone. "Shots fired. Commander down. I'm assuming command. Building suspect is approximately one hundred meters dead ahead. Dismount, we will provide fire."

"Yes sir!" The fireteam leader, a sergeant, said as the back door dropped. At that moment, the powerful M242E 30MM Bushmaster II Chain Gun of the M2A4 unleashed ten rounds into the top window. The tracer rounds and armor piercing, high explosive mix of the ammunition fired itno the window created a sparkling effect. The unique sound of the Bushmaster II was that of a slow Gatling gun. Ten thirty millimeter rounds was enough to do significant damage to anything and the M2A4 carried twelve hundred, three hundred at the ready. It had a rate of fire of only two hundred and fifty rounds per minute, slow by any chain gun or heavy gun standards but it was accurate out to twenty-six hundred meters and with force as well.

The soldiers took their opportunity and rushed out of the Bradley, moving along its side and towards the building. The gun of the Bradley stopped firing but it started up again, firing another ten rounds out. The soldiers were moving fast towards the building, their rifles against their shoulders but not raised. They were moving fast, way too fast to have their rifles raised.

They entered the building about one hundred and twenty seconds after the commander dropped below, certainly not enough time for whomever was inside of it to get out. They had a relative idea where the shot came from. The trajectory and line of sight from the twelfth story window was perfect for a shot against the tank. The M2A4 Bradley fired off another ten rounds as the soldiers entered the building. Civilians were worried, hearing the sound of the gunshots and from the chain gun on the Bradley. "Get back in your homes!" The sergeant yelled as they entered the main building.

At the end of the hallway was an elevator and a staircase. "Alright team A with me. B go up the stairs. Keep on the look-out guys!" They moved immediately and radioed to the Bradley that they were inside.

"This is Redstorm One-One, report in over."

"Redstorm One-One, go." They were radioing in to central command, a makeshift command center set up in the middle of the city, inside a high-rise.

"We've come under fire. One sniper, suspect more. Commander of the Bradley is down. Dismounts on foot. Over."

"Roger that. Report position."

"Position is four hundred meters bearing zero-two-zero from Bullseye. Facing west. Building Eighteen-Forty. Over."

"Roger that. Investigate. Report progression, over."

"Roger that. Redstorm One-One. Out."

The shots from the Layartebian M2A4 slammed straight into the apartment of Mrs O'Flannagan, a 36-year old woman who worked at the convenience store just next to the position of the M2A4. When she saw the army vehicle fire straight into her apartment, she went crazy. Her two children, six year old Liam and twelve year old Sarah, were home alone there. Shocked, she ran out and towards the building.

Getting inside, she saw that the lift was heading up. Not having the time to wait for it to come back down, she instead ran like crazy up the stairs, getting only to the corridor in the 12th floor before she was stopped by the Layartebian soldiers.

"You bastards! That's my children inside there where you shot! Let me past! I have to find my children damned it!"

She was crazy with frustration and fear now, praying to God and all the saints that her kids were safe.

The soldiers from the elevator got to the twelfth floor quickly. Radioing to the Bradley that they were inside, they quickly went to the place where the Bradley fired. The rounds had blown the door right apart, mostly from fragmentation effects from the high explosive shells. They cautiously entered, rifles raised. At this time, the men on the stairs were about at the eighth floor, coming up quickly. They were able to get a quicker lead than those in the elevator but, as math states, the shortest distance between two points is a straight line.

The three soldiers made their way to the door and blocked it from a dozen or so curious residents, all of whom were not happy that thirty rounds of thirty millimeter shells had torn the hell out of an apartment. The rounds, naturally, kept going and exited the roof, heading in a trajectory upwards. Upon entering they saw the mangled, bloody carcass of a small boy. The fragmentation effects went to town on him. There was the possibility that a bullet hit him too but who could tell, there wasn't much left of him. Another body was in the corner, cowering, covered in blood but not his.

They weren't in the apartment more than a minute when the sounds of a frantic woman echoed through the silent halls and into the apartment. It was obviously the mother of the children. They had a serious problem, there was no consoling her. "Team B, check out the roof. We're staying here." The sergeant said as he tried to console the mother but it was obvious that wasn't going to happen. They had to, more or less, prevent a massive uprising in the building. The carcass of the boy was definitely an instant rage inducer.

On the roof, team B found what they needed to. Even though the holes from the Bushmaster II made it tough to walk in certain places, a single, brass cartridge lie sitting on the roof. One of them picked it up and then looked around. They walked along the edges until they found an emergency ladder system, a fire escape, on the rear of the building. No more than ten feet down, on the black, metal grating was what appeared to be a cell phone, smashed to bits. They had found the route of escape...This was definitely a professional...

Mrs O'Flannagan almost went into a shock when she saw the remains of her son. The Layartebian murderers tried to keep her from entering, claiming that it be better for her if she didn't see him.

"It's my bloody son you murderers! You killed my boy! He's only six! Oh God! My Liam! Good God, what shall I do!" she cried out while slamming her fists hard against the sergeant that tried to calm her down and cried for her dead son. One of the other residents on the floor, who happened to be the local Catholic priest came over to Mrs O'Flannagan and tried to calm her down as well while looking very sternly at the Layartebians. It was to no avail, since O'Flannagan was so deeply in grief.

Then he looked at young Liam, who was... had been, Father O'Brien corrected himself, an alterboy in the church. He should get the Last Rites, being a good Christian child and all. the Layartebians tried to stop him from entering, but the Father shrugged them off.

"There's a dead Christian child in there. For all that is good and holy, you must allow me to give him his last rites!"

The Layartebians allowed the Father to pass, all of them being Catholics themselves. As he walked in, he looked over the destruction made by the Layartebians before he kneled down and gave Liam his last rites. When he had finished the quick, but important sacrament, he covered the body with his black jacket before looked over the apartment once again and saw the eldest child, Sarah, sitting in a corner covered in blood.

"My Lord... Child, are ye alright?"

Sarah didn't respond, being in a deep state of shock after having watched her little brother being killed by the 30mm projectiles. Father O'Brien walked over to her, carefully not stepping on any of the pools of blood on the floor. Then he picked her gently up and carried her out to Mrs O'Flannagan, who still were in deep sorrow of the loss of her son. As the Father came out with the surviving child, she found some strength and the maternal instinct kicked in for full. She followed the father into his apartment 20 meters down the hallway, screaming curses and damning the Layartebians to hell. The crowd around the doorway to the O'Flannagan apartment was also getting angrier now that the surviving child, mother and Father had left. They shouted and cursed at the three Layartebian soldiers, cursing them to hell and beyond.

"Ye damned bastards! Look wat ye did!", "Ye murdered poor little Liam! How could ye!", "Bastards! Death to Layarteb!" and "Liam will be avenged! We won't stop untill ye are all dead!" were repeating comments towards the three soldiers. It was just a matter of time before they exploded, and then all hell would be loose. Father O'Brien was already calling a member of the parrish who also was a journalist in a local TV station, and he promised to be there with a camera crew within ten minutes. The shit was hitting the fan, and it was hitting it fast. Something had to be done on the Layartebian side to try to defuse the situation, and quickly.

"Sergeant," one of the men whispered, "it's wise for us to get the hell out of here. We're about to have a massive riot on our hands."

"You're right. Nothing more we can do." The sergeant smirked to his soldiers and slowly, with their guns pointing in the air, they began to walk back towards the elevator. All six of them were taking it down as fast as they could and, if necessary, they would use the Bradley for cover on the outside.

"We're encountering some difficulty trying to get out." The sergeant radioed to the Bradley. "Advise you meet us at the front door, over."

"Roger that." The M2A4 began moving towards the door. It would park about ten meters away, facing away, so that the dismounts could enter the cabin immediately. The turret, however, was pointed at the door. They weren't playing around, there wasn't going to be a riot today, not of all days. They had what evidence they needed, albeit nothing more than a destroyed cell phone and a bullet casing, but evidence nonetheless.

.:. Bump for Cotland .:.

OOC: I hope you don't mind Lay. Just trying to speed things up a bit. Also, get on AIM whenever you can.

IC: Blasted apartment building, Belfast
The filmcrew arrived just as the Layartebian M2A4 Bradley IFV was about to take on the soldiers, getting a good view of the soldiers embarking the Bradley quickly while a angry mob stood outside and shouted anti-Layartebian slogans. That, combined with the pictures of the blown up apartment fasade set the news picture for the day.

"This is Sean O'Cellem, reporting live from the Pallagerry apartment complex in downtown Belfast. Just a few moments ago, a Layartebian tank opened fire on a apartment here without any provocation, killing a young innocent boy. Then, armed Layartebian soldiers stormed the apartment and harassed the inhabitants. I'll try to get closer to the building..."

Then the M2A4 started to drive off, while the crowd got rowdier and rowdier. Some picked up bricks that had been shot off the fasade and threw after the Layartebian IFV, but it didn't hit. They were driving too fast away. Father O'Brien came out, still supporting the mourning Mrs O'Flannagan, and spotted the filmcrew. O'Cellem rushed over and started to talk into the microphone again.

"I'm here with Father Patrick O'Brien, and father, what happened?"

"Those heathens started to shoot towards the apartment of poor Mrs O'Flannagan here, and killed her youngest, Liam. They had no provocation from us, yet they tried to keep us away at gunpoint. They killed poor Liam, who was an altarboy, and shocked her eldest Sarah, who is in the church choir. Poor Mrs O'Flannagan is shocked beyond shock, and need help. For the love of God, what did the poor O'Flannagans do to deserve this? First they loose their husband and father to the Kriegos, then this. What does it take for the Layartebians to leave us Irishmen alone?! God will strike them down!"

"So they killed Liam?"

"Aye. I gave the poor lad the last rites by my own self, may he rest in peace."

"Thank you father. That was Father Patrick O'Brien, ladies and gents. So the situation is this. The Layartebians attack this peaceful apartment building without provocation, killing a young altarboy in the process. When the residents try to recover the body, they are kept away at gunpoint by bloodthirsty Layartebian soldiers, who we saw run away like the cowards they are. I'll try to get a interview with some Layartebian officials till next time we're on. This is Sean O'Cellem, reporting live for Belfast TV."


Belfast Int'l Airport
While the Layartebians were busy with the growing unrest in Belfast, five Irishmen boarded a Boeing 747-400 headed for Falcon City in Layarteb. Each man had a sharp knife in plastic, so that it wouldn't trigger the metaldetectors, hidden in their boxers. Hopefully the Layartebians wouldn't search for anything there.

The men passed through the security checkpoints, and finally boarded Flight 1156 to Falcon City, and took their seats. They were strategically placed on the flight, two in front, one in the middle and two in the back of the plane.

After the plane had been in the air for an hour, the Irishmen got to work. Slowly, the two in the front rose from their seats and walked forward to the cockpit, seemingly heading for the lavatory. However, once they got there, they quickly took out their knives and took two flight attendants hostage. The same happened in the middle of the plane and the aft of the plane.

"Open the bloody door!" one of the hijackers ordered the scared flight attendant, pressing his knife to her throath. "I'll kill ya if ya don't! Open the bloody door!"

Expect a reply here in a couple of hours. Kinda swamped at work for the moment.

No, no È problema.

.:.bump.:.

OOC: Did not see the edit.

The situation at the Pallagerry apartment complex grew bad fast. The M2A4 crew spotted the cameramen as they drove off. "Redstorm One-One. Apartment vacant. One civilian killed. Hostility at complex."

"Roger that Redstorm One-One. Return to base immediately." Their commanders were watching the footage on the television. Everything was near live in Belfast because someone knew someone who worked where they needed to work. As they drove off, the inhabitants threw bricks and rocks, though none hitting the M2A4, moving away at forty miles per hour. The evidence they gathered would be sent to central processing and analyzed and entered into the Irish subsystem, thereby going into the entire Layartebian criminal record system.

****************************

Passengers, upon seeing what was going on, began to scream and shout. The terrorists now were hijacking a plane and they had hostages, both at the door of the cockpit, which was sealed from the inside, locked and barricaded. After the hijacking to Kaliningrad, Layartebian airliners were now equipped with near impenetrable doors and skymarshalls. There were, at minimum, two per flight. They were armed with dart guns, rather than lethal weapons. The reasoning was that a stray bullet could pierce the skin of the airliner, and at high altitude, it could cause a catastrophic depressurization. The dart guns, instead, carried enough tranquilizer to knock a three hundred pound man unconscious for twelve hours. Additionally, the serum worked at a speed of one hundred and fifty meters per second. Nerves worked at one hundred meters per second. The person would be unsciouss before they ever felt the pain.

One of the skymarshalls was seated in the rear, the very last row, the other in the front, the very last row of first class. Both of them appeared as ordinary businessmen, a briefcase, a newspaper, and they would have ordered a coffee. However, now that the situation had gone haywire, everything was different. Each of them carried a cellular phone, able to work from anywhere, and it was very small. In the event of a hijacking, they were to send a text message to their bureau command with the content: "1156 - 911 - HJK - 5." That meant that flight 1156, was in trouble, being hijacked by 5 people. Both of them, instinctively, without removing their phones from their pockets, sent the text message, watching as the terrorists were occupied elsewhere.

Inside the cabin, the pilot did the same, although differently. He pushed a small button that signalled a hijacking was in progress. It transmitted a signal to seven different locations, including the air traffic controller managing them. The button would depress and come back out, showing no signs that it was pressed in. Small and hidden under the seat of the pilot or copilot, it was enough. The pilots kept the plane on course and at speed.

"We cannot open the door!" The pilot shouted as he looked at the security monitor. A small camera was placed at the top of the door, looking down. He could see the terrorist and the hostages.

"Yer lying ya slut! Open the bloody door!" the hijacker outside the cockpit door shouted straight into the ear of the flight attendant. The other one hammered on the door.
"Open the bloody door, or she dies!"

Further down in the very back, one of the hijackers took one of the passengers hostage, not knowing that it was one of the skymarshalls.

"Get up ya lazy bastard! Get up!" he screamed, pointing his knife at the throath of the skymarshall. The other hijacker in the back called out to the one trying to get the skymarshall hostage.

"If Paddy can't get control of the bloody cockpit, we're dead when we land. Those bastards will probably kill us on sight."

"Then we die for Ireland!"

The skymarshall kept calm. He acted, on the outside, as if he were scared. The hostage holding the plastic knife at his neck was behind him and he had his hands at his side. He could easily pick out the pistol from its holster and fire it behind him, putting a single shot in the torso of the terrorist.

Up from, at the door, the pilot kept the door locked. It was reinforced and it was armored. It would take much more than a plastic knife to get through it. Then, as the pilot looked in the camera again he could see one of the skymarshalls, in his seat, raising his pistol. The nearest terrorist was the one at the door and the others were behind him. Immediately, the skymarshall raised the sights and fired off a shot right at the back of the terrorist at the door and quickly spun around to shoot at another one mid-cabin. The one being held in the back, upon seeing the other skymarshall, was to pull out his and fire it behind him, through his suit jacket. His left hand, which holding the wrist of the terrorist tightened and he yanked the terrorist forward, keeping the knife away from his throat.

The remaining two terroris... eh, freedom fighters, one in the middle of the aircraft and one on the back, saw the drama unfold and froze. 'What the hell do I do now?' went through the heads of them both. The one in the back froze completely, while the one in the middle grabbed a fourteen year old girl, trying her best to be as tiny as possible in her seat, and put his knife to her throat, all this with the girls parents and the girl herself screaming and crying.

"If ya come closer, I'll slit'er throat! Put down the bloody guns! Do it, or the lass dies!" the terrorist called to the skymarshalls, pressing his knife closer to the throat of the girl. He was desperate, and intended to go down with as many as possible.

"Alright, alright, easy. We don't have to have anyone die on here. We'll put them down." The skymarshall looked right into the eyes of the terrorist. The one in the back, had his back to the other terrorist and he too had a hostage. Both of the skymarshalls were in a serious quagmire. They reached down low to the ground and slowly put their pistols on the cabin floor. They still had plenty of rounds in each one, enough to take down a lot more terrorists. Neither of them carried a second pistol and that was about all they had.

The situation was definitely not good. They were each capable marskman, fully capable of hitting the hostage takers behind the hostages. Even if they hit the hostages, these were only tranquilizer darts. Unfortunately, it would raise a series of serious problems, possibly a lawsuit, but then again, it was all in a days' work.

As they put the weapons down, both of them slowly stood up. From the cockpit, the pilot could see the entire situation. There was a camera placed at mid-cabin and another at the rear. Each part of the cabin could be watched from the cockpit.

Training for him dictated one maneuver, a sudden change in altitude or to roll the plane slightly. The skymarshalls would expect it, dive for the ground, get their pistol, and fire. But the captain wasn't supposed to act until he got a signal, which was the skymarshalls holding up the number three with each hand.

"Good. Now take five steps back with yer hands on yer heads, and keep'em there or the lass here dies!" he yelled towards them. "Danny! Get their guns!" he called over to the other terrorist, who carefully manouvered himself forward towards the pistol that the aft skymarshall had placed on the floor. The terrorist with the girl as a hostage kept his knife on her throat, then wispered to her. "Just do as I say, and ye'll be alright. We just want our fathers land free from yer oppression. Do ya understand?"

"Alright, alright." They backed up a little bit, both of them holding up the sign. The pilot was definitely watching because as they got to the third step, he rolled the whole aircraft hard to the left and banked too, completely throwing off everyone's balance. The front skymarshall dove to the ground, getting the pistol before it slid away. Unfortunately, the other skymarshall wasn't so lucky and his pistol slid under the seat of a passenger.

As the front skymarshall raised his pistol he looked for a clear shot. It was tough, very tough. The hostage and the terrorist were both falling all over the place, he just hoped that she fell forward enough to get a clear shot at his torso.

The other skymarshall lept into the air, going to grab the knife from the terrorist, get it from him, and possibly subdue him...

"I said, hands on yer...." the terrorist holding the girl managed to say just before the plane started manouvering. While he fell, the knife, already very close to the girls throat, slipped and cut her. Although not lethal and only a bit into the flesh on the side, it did cause blood to escape from the wound. He dropped the girl and jumped at the skymarshall, hoping to catch him by surprise. While he jumped, he yelled out "For Ireland!"

In the back, things weren't going great. The Irishman and the skymarshall were wrestling over the control, when all of the sudden, one of the passengers came out and kicked the terrorist in the balls, causing him to loose his breath and will to fight, albeit only momentarily. Still, it was enough for the skymarshall to take advantage of.

The skymarshall had his hand on the pistol but he was now in a wrestling match with the terrorist. The last thing he could do would be to relinquish the weapon. If he did it would mean he and his partner would be ineffective at stopping the terrorists and quite possibly let them control the aircraft.

Both skymarshalls were engaged in conflicts now, both struggling with the terrorists. Only one had a pistol in his hand, the other was struggling to get the knife from the terrorist when, all of a sudden, a man about six foot six stood and squared a perfect kick into the terrorist. It connected with his balls and drove him into the ground.

The skymarshall quickly used it to his advantage and snatched the plastic knife from the hands of the terrorist and drove it into his shoulder. It was a clean wound, enough to limit him but not enough to kill him. The terrorist slammed down onto the floor as the skymarshall withdrew the knife and charged at the other terrorist, knife in hand.

Danny, the terrorist in the aft fell to the ground, crying out in pain of the knife in his shoulder. It was busted, not that it really mattered. Danny expected to be executed by the Layartebians as soon as the plane landed. Meanwhile. the other terrorist were busy trying to keep the skymarshall away when all of a sudden, he heard running behind him. 'I'm dead,' he thought, 'But I'll die a patriots death for Ireland!' Then the second skymarshall slammed info him, stabbing him in the thigh, causing the terrorist to fall. The skymarshalls jumped him and managed to secure his knife, defusing teh situation. Before he fell, he screamed to the girl he had held hostage a moment earlier. "Remember what I told ya lass! It was all for Ireland!"

The situation was nearly defused but not entirely. The front skymarshall aimed his pistol down and put a dart right into the torso of the terrorist and then did the same to the other terrorist. "The plane is under control now. We are skymarshalls working with the Transportation Safety Board. If anyone is hurt, physically, we will see to your attention immediately. Upon landing, please remain in your seats, we will have to conduct an investigation. We are sorry for this inconvience but justice must prevail." There were grunts and groans. People typically hated proceedings of the like. They would see to the hurt girl first. One of them went up to the cockpit door and knocked.

"Skymarshall. Good work. Let's put her down as soon as possible, understood?"

"Yes sir. We're on our way to Iceland."

"Good." The plane was over the way, safe from the enemy, and under the protection of two of the most highly trained police officers short of SWAT.`

"The plan failed, Shaemus! They got Danny and the others."

The man was furious. His son had been among the hijackers on Flight 1156, and now he would probably never see him again. Shaemus wasn't pleased with the near panic that the father displayed.

"I know, but Danny is a big boy. He knew what he was getting himself into. He volunteered, remember? Get a hold of yerself. I've got bigger plans."

"What? Get a hold.... What are yer plans?"

"We're gonna kill the traitor bitch of a governor."

****************

On two rooftops overlooking Adelaide Street, six men sat and waited. In their hands they had six RPG-29 anti-tank grenade launchers. They had been waiting for two hours, having recieved a tip from a loyal Irishman in the traitors inner circle. The source had tipped them off before, and the info had always been correct. Now, they were going to eliminate the greatest threath to a free Ireland.

"They're coming!"

All of a sudden, the men sruccied about, getting into position. They were coming close now. Three M2008A1 Dingos and two M2010A1 Bushmasters. Each had a turret with a M31 heavy machine gun. They were also certain that the governor would be inside one of the Dingos, since they drove in the middle of the convoy with a Bushmaster in front and one in the back. Since the Irish weren't certain excactly where the governor were, they would fire two RPG-29s at each Dingo. It should be enough to take them out.

"Wait for it... Wait for it.... NOW!"

The six men jumped up, aimed quickly and fired two RPG-29s at each of the Dingos. They couldn't possibly survive.

For the gunners, nothing was as scary as what they saw. Six rockets streaked down towards them from a rooftop perch. "INBOUND!" They all screamed but it wasn't quick enough. The rockets were inbound at 130 mps, far too little time for them to react. On top of the two Bushmasters, the M31 turrets opened up. Each weapon was loaded with 140 rounds in two 70-round boxes. A brass collection system returned the spent cartridges to the box for reshelling later on. It was an ingenious idea that worked well.

They got off about seven rounds each before the rockets impacted their targets. They were all on mark and on point. They hit the Dingos on the roof at a steep down angle, in excess of 60°, doing significant damage.

Initially, the rockets penetrated the armor and released its warhead, causing each Dingo to explode from the inside. The hulls ruptured and all three vehicles became engulfed in flames within a few milliseconds. Inside the Bushmaster in the rear, the driver immediately saw what had happened and jammed on the brakes. The ABS immediately kicked in and he skidded towards the right, to avoid the destroyed, flaming carcasses of the Dingos.

The governor was, without a doubt, very dead...

Four of the freedom fighters fell in the short burst of gunfire from the Layartebian vehicles, not having been able to jump down again quick enough. Still, two of the fighters survived and immediately ran like hell off the roof and down the stairs in the three-story building. Before they had left, they had left a note on the dead bodies.

To the Layartebian occupiers.

This attack was undertaken by valiant members of the Belfast Brigade of
the Irish Liberation Army, with the intent of eliminating Mary O'Brien, who
has proven herself to be a traitor to the Irish people. We will not stand for
any Irishmen/women who collaborate with the Layartebian occupiers, and
we will eliminate any Irishman/woman who collaborate with them.

We have stated our demands before, and we state them again. We demand a
full withdrawal of the Layartebians and full autonomy to Ireland, with a ruling
council elected by the Irish people, and we demand it now! If this is not
started within the end of this day, we will continue our campaign untill our
demands are met.

This is your final warning.

- Signed -
Patrick O'Malley
Commander, Belfast Brigade
Irish Liberation Army

Hopefully the men would be able to escape, but they each had firearms on them in case they didn't. Beretta pistols and Uzis hidden in their backpacks were their armament, and they had been trained to use them well.

Two bodies crashed down to the street. Neither of them was identifiable, the energy of the 15.5 x 115mm bullet turning them to a puddle of goo. The other two just fell backwards, onto the roof, weapons still in hands. A nearby M2A4 Bradley IFV rushed over as well, to provide additional fire, should it be needed. It had been traveling down the roadway about two hundred meters away, moving perpendicular to the convoy when the rockets hit. They made a quick turn and now arrived at the scene. Radio calls and frantic messages filled the air as the seriousness of the matter dawned on the convoy: the governor was dead.

Dismounts from the M2A4 Bradley would wind up searching the building and the roof shortly after, though they would catch nobody. They were looking for, at minimum, two more people, since six rockets fired at the same time, nothing except for a note.

Immediately, it was brought to the crime investigation laboratory in downtown Belfast. It would be analyzed for everything useful. Whilst the cleanup operation was undertaken, information was being removed, forcibly, from the countless terrorists in custody. A raid was being planned and it would be against a pub not far from the Queen's Bridge.

Shaemus wasn't in the McManus pub, but Miles and Colm were. As usual, they were sitting in their common booth in the very inner most of the pub, drinking Guiness and listening to the drinking song that was on the speakers (Flogging Molly). Since they started the hostilities, they had at least one sawed-off shotgun under the table, ready to open fire if anyone suspicious came into the pub.

Patrick O'Toole were behind the counter, still with his two AK-74s under the desk. He also had a sawed-off shotgun.

Three Irishmen were in the back room, loading clips for the many rifles there. They had seven AK-74s, eleven G3A3s and nine M16A2s at the ready, along with a M249, six RPG-29s and two Druganovs.

On the second floor, nineteen freedom fighters were asleep, but each of them had a AK, G3 or M16 at their side.

In the basement, two freedom fighters were playing cards while watching out for the four hundred AK-74s, two hundred G3A3s and three hundred M16A2s, fifty RPG-28s, thirty RPG-7s, nine hundred kilos of Semtex and twelve thousand rounds of ammunition hidden in the basement. McManus was one of six major weapons caches and rally points in downtown Belfast.
None of the men expected the Layartebians to raid, but they had two hidden surveilance cameras outside, watching the activity in the street. If the Layartebians came, the men would have enough time to get their weapons out, wake up the sleeping men and give them a hot welcome.

With the raid only minutes away, a Stalker overflew the target at 1,500 feet. She was loaded with a significant amount of weapons for a simple mission. She carried 600 rounds in her 30MM gun for starters. In her air to air bays, she carried 4 FIM-186A Wizard missiles, the replacement of the Stinger. Then she carried 6 AGM-177A Brimstone missiles and 2 AGM-177C Brimstone missiles. The AGM-177C carried a thermobaric warhead, versus the anti-tank of the AGM-177. Capable of 247 mph, she made the Apache look like a Vietnam-era attack helicopter.

The plan of attack was simple, surround and slaughter. The pub was located in a small area of compact buildings, allowing a lot of cover but little place to run. The force would consist of 2 M2A4 Bradley IFVs, which would take up assault positions at the front and rear of the pub, 3 M113A3 APCs, which would take up blocking positions along three key routes, 4 M2011A2 Scount TDs, which would provide heavy firepower if necessary, blocking all possible directions, and 2 M2015A1 Cobra APCs, to support the M113A3s. All together, they were coming with 101 men, 30 of them crewmen and 71 being dismounts. However, of the dismounts, 14 were Special Forces and 6 were Black Forces. Usually they were armed with an M30A1 Assault Rifle or a M42A1 SAW. The Special Forces, on the other hand, carried M43A2 Submachineguns and M47A1 LARs. The Black Forces carried either M30A3s, M37A1 SACs, M47A1 LARs, and heavy pistols, the M46A1/A2/A3. In addition, a single AH-6J Littlebird would fly in and deploy a 4 man Black Forces Team to the roof, armed heavy like the other Black Forces.

The plan of attack was simple. The 14 Special Forces split into two teams and assaulted front and rear. The Black Ops would split into two teams and follow and the ones on the roof would progress downward. The 51 regulars would provide blocking and assault positions around the pub to protect the vehicles and all possible points of egress.

The vehicles would all converge on the pub at 1600 and all from different directions. They moved through the streets normally, like any other patrol, not in a convoy. Convoys always meant trouble. At any point in the day there was, at least within 150 meters of the target building, an APC or IFV.

At 1600, Patrick looked down at the monitor, and saw an M2A4 and a M113A3 roll quickly down towards the pub. Immediately, he screamed out.

"They're comin'!"

As the men all scurried to get to their weapons, and the men upstairs were being quickly waken up, Patrick crouched down, picked up one of the AKs and aimed it at the door while trying to present as small a target as possible. The shit really hit the fan now.

The M2A4 Bradleys and M113A3 APCs pulled up fast, coming to a quick halt. Their guns were trained on the pub as the back ramps dropped and out poured the soldiers. The Special Forces were in the M2A4 Bradleys and the M113A3 APCs held regular forces and three Black Ops in two of them. The Black Ops immediately darted to join the Special Forces, now having a ten man group going into the front and ten into the back. At the same time, the remaining vehicles set up their points, none of them being closer than 10 meters from the pub and none being further than 100. The AH-6J Littlebird screamed in as well, dropping off the four men on the roof within a few seconds. Antennae and other hindrances prevented them from landing so they had to hover about 4 feet from the top, making the Black Ops jump. It was done in seconds. They would go in through a trap door with a vertical ladder.

Then the go-code was yelled and three breeching charges place, one on the front door, one on the rear, and one on the roof hatch. With a five second fuse, the soldiers backed away and turned their eyes. Two men stood ready at the front and at the back with M84 Flashbang grenades. On the roof, two were going to be thrown down as well.

Five...Four...Three...Two...One...

The door blew, causing Patrick to jump down behind the counter. It was immediately followed by two blasts. Patrick had been hiding behind the counter, but he didn't dare stick his head up. Instead he fired the entire clip into the door opening. Hopefully he would hit someone.

Miles and Colm were blind and deaf from the flashbang, but they had their sawn-offs and they shot blindly at the general direction of the door. Both were screaming out Irish slogans.

In the back, the three Irishmen had taken a AK, a G3 and a M16, respectively, and waited. The back door were blown, and the three men waited for the enemies to come into the room from the corridor. After a few seconds, they heard two smaller explosions and decided this was the time. One of them, the one with the G3, jumped out and opened up on the Layartebians they thought were coming in.

Upstairs, five men were under teh hatch when it blew, and immediately they ducked at the explosion above them. It didn't get better when two flashbangs blew in their faces. Another seven were also effected by the flashbangs, but only one fired his weapon, an M16. Most of the bullets hit the five friends. Hopefully some would hit the Layartebians too.

Immediately the doors turned to cinder and the flashbangs went off. They would have stormed in but gunfire echoed next. Bullets flew out of the door and around the rooms, the sounds of them ricocheting being louder than the gunshots themselves. They dared not enter but rather opened fire themselves, pointing their gun barrels around the corner of the door and firing into the room. It was a tough situation and they needed to get in as fast as possible but not with that many bullets flying around. They wore armor but not enough for that type of situation. They would have to hold fast for now. They'd wait three minutes before throwing in another flashbang into each opening and then, quite possibly storm it. It was a difficult test. M67 Fragmentation Grenades were options but not options.

Patrick ducked again when the Layartebians returned fire, and changed weapon to the loaded AK-74. Again, he put the rifle over the desk and fired at the door. After having fired the weapons, he picked up the shotgun and crouch-ran to the back room to rearm. He picked up one of the RPG-29s and aimed it at the door and fired. It swooshed straight out the door and into a vehicle in the back. After it had been fired, he picked up the M249 and prepared himself for the carnage to come.

Miles and Colm regained their vision and saw the exchange of fire. They looked at eachother for a second before they reloaded and took up positions in the cover of the booths, preparing themselves mentally for death. There were no chance in hell they were going out of this alive.

Upstairs, the men had regained their sight and saw the carnage. Five men dead. They flocked into the other rooms, and tried to get downstairs too. Unfortunately, the stairs ended with a clear line of sight to the back door, and also to the hail of bullets. Four men met their death there. The rest gathered in packs in the rooms, peeking out the curtains at the helicopters and armoured vehicles in the streets.

The rocket flew straight out of the rear door, past the firing Special Forces, shocking the living hell out of them. It impacted the tank on the frontal armor. The fuse instantly detonated but, because of the front slope, the penetrating capabilities of the rocket were rendered useless. However, the explosion shook the IFV and caused the Special Forces and Black Forces outside to duck for a quick second. The Bradley would have returned fire but there was way too high a chance for fraticide.

That was the last straw. One of the Special Forces tossed in another M84 Flashbang but followed it not with another but with an M67. He counted to three and tossed it into the room. It would be a two second wait before it exploded.

On the roof, the Black Forces dropped in another Flashbang and unloaded more rounds before they would drop in. The same story was in the front.

After the explosions, the bottles of alcohol behind the counter were put ablaze. One of the men in the back room peeked out into the pub, and got his head blown off by a Layartebian Black Operative. Patrick saw the body fall to the ground and made up his mind. There were no way the Layartebians would get away with putting his pub on fire. He stuck the M249 out and opened up, hopefully hitting someone.

Colm and Miles also saw the Layartebians enter, and fired their sawn-offs at them before quickly ducking and reloading. Hopefully they got someone.

Up on the second floor, the men peeked out to find Layartebians dropping down the hole in the roof. Panicking, they opened fire at the black-dressed bodies while yelling to the others that the enemy were entering.

In the basement, the two men there were setting up charges for the many hundred kilos of Semtex, using radio detonators. The last man alive would detonate the explosives. There were no way they would let the enemy get a hold of the weapons cache and plans in the basement.

The first floor was a disaster scene. The Special Forces had fired off a magazine or two each of ammunition into the room and now there was nothing to do but to enter. So, with that, two of them stood by the door, leaned over and opened fire while the rest ran through, taking up cover positions behind booths and objects. The threat of crossfire was great and so those from the front eased off on their fire slightly as they did the same, taking careful note of each other, firing only single shots at targets. It was dangerous, very dangerous.

On the second floor, the Black Forces did something much different. One of them immediately dropped down and hit the ground and opened fire on whatever was within his visual reach. Then the second came down and backed him up. The four of them covered each other and slowly, they moved forward, crouching. They still had plenty of flashbangs and they would use them for each room they entered.

In the basement, the two men there had finished rigging the charges, and were now picking up their weapons. M4A1 carbines with hollow-point rounds, perfect for taking down armored soldiers.

"You wait here, I'll go and check upstairs."

"Aye. Be careful mate."

"Naturally," the man answered, laughing desperately. They both knew that there were no chance in hell they would get out of here alive. The man slowly walked up the stairs, keeping his M4A1 at the ready. He had one of the RPG-7s hanging over the shoulder. The man had been a member of the Garda, the local army, before the Layartebians came, and he knew both how to handle a weapon and how to act under fire. He stopped halfway up, because bullets still flew towards the wall further upstairs. The stairway was completely dark, so the risk of detection was relatively small. He crouched and advanced slowly, and saw the Layartebians enter. They were advancing while supressing the freedom fighters with fire from their weapons, and tossed in flashbangs into each room they passed. The man quickly considered his options, and pulled out the RPG-7. Aiming at the advancing Layartebians, he fired the rocket before he ducked again. The explosion was terribly loud, and the man was almost completely deaf when he fired off a clip from his M4A1 at the burning remains of the hallway, just in case.


Patrick dove to the ground when the RPG-7 exploded, only meters away from him. The other two there were caught by the collapsing wall and shrapnel, and died there. PAtrick, having sustained some moderate injuries, ignored the pain and picked up the M249 again and jumped out the door, straight into the Layartebian Black Ops. Surprised, he pulled the trigger for the light machine gun and held it in, firing loads of rounds into the enemy. He was hit by several rounds himself, and died, knowing that he had taken with him at least one Layartebian if not more.


Upstairs, three men were killed in the first volley of gunfire. The entire concrete building shook from the explosion downstairs, and the men started to realize that they wouldn't leave the building alive. So, they decided to do what Ireland expected. Kamikaze charge! Five men stuck their rifles out the door and fired off the clips, causing the Layartebians to duck. Then five others, equipped with M16s, ran out and fired from the hip while screaming out "For Ireland!", "Die bastards!" and similar things. They were cut down by gunfire.

The situation in the pub was growing serious, very serious. The men inside the building were having difficulty advancing. They had only moved a few meters by now and when the RPG exploded, it shook them loose. Two Special Forces were dead already and one of the Black Forces was wounded from the shrapnel of the RPG. "BACK OUT!" One of them yelled as they began to retreat. It was clear they weren't going to get any prisoners and that was the idea from the start. The mission was going to be a failure. The soldiers backed out, dragging the two dead Special Forces, until they got out of the building. The M2A4 Bradley IFV let loose a few rounds from the M35 to protect the retreating soldiers as it backed away. They were going to blow the building up and send the people inside to their graves.

On the second floor, the Black Forces heard the call and their AH-6J Littlebird was inbound, only ninety seconds out. They used this opportunity to toss two M84 Flashbangs and quickly ran for the ladder, protecting each other as they climbed out. Each one of them had been shot at least once but their body armor protected them, for the most part. One was wounded in his shoulder but that wasn't going to stop him from getting the hell out of there.

Overhead, the AH-94A Stalker circled, locking up the building with its thermobaric AGM-177C missiles. They would be fired into the first floor and detonated once inside. All vehicles were backing away to a clearing of 50 meters away from the building.

"They're retreating!" someone yelled out, and the Irish managed to start to cheer before the Layartebian missiles slammed into the building, incinerating the room. They also made it down to the basement, where the intense heat detonated the 900 kilograms of Semtex hidden there. Needless to say, things said "BOOM!"

http://www.air-and-space.com/20020420%20Pt%20Mugu/3%2021%20QF-4S+%20155749%20VX-30%20crash%20explosion%20l.jpg
Explosion similar to the explosion in Dublin, albeit somewhat smaller...

The freedom fighters were dead, the McManus pub was history and replaced by a crater 20 meters deep, but the Irish hadn't allowed the Layartebians to get a hold of the weapons cache. Mission accomplished!

The AH-6J Littlebird was only about 100 meters away from the pub before it blew. At the same time, those outside were no further than 48 meters away. The blast shock alone knocked everyone down, the heat being felt a full kilometer away. The blast was large, enough to take out just about everything on its own block, leveling the pub and every building for at least 60 meters. 13 regulars would find themselves dead from debris and the explosion with all 12 Special Forces still alive and the 6 Black Forces dead as well. The blast was significant enough to severely damage the M2A4 Bradley IFVs and one of the M2011A2 Scout TDs. Luckily for the 4 Black Forces on the Littlebird, they were able to escape the blast.

"The situation is grim sir." The liason to the Republic of Ireland spoke out of turn, again. He had, twice thus far, stepped on the General of the Air Force. Determined to get his point across, he kept talking. "Sir, the governor has been assassinated. We have over a thousand wounded, many fatalities. We've lost buildings, a bridge was almost destroyed, the courthouse is no more. Sir, we need to act fast, this is getting out of hand."

"I understand." The Emperor did. He saw the same from the insurgents point of view, but that was during their war against Tnemrot, for independence. "What have you proposed?"

"Well sir, we have a good army presence. Air Force units are quite available. It's not a matter of military hardware that we need, no. It's more money. We need money to buy people on the streets, money to 'sell arms' to the insurgents, find out who they are, and get them!"

"How much are we talking about?"

"Best figures are about 50 million."

The General of the Air Force scoffed. "Fifty million for an insurgency? What is this!"

"Understood General, but it is essential before Belfast becomes rubble. Intelligence is crucial."

"It's not like they have a chemical bomb or anything..."

The liason coughed. "Sir, that they might." The Emperor's eyes widened.

"WHAT!?"

"Sir, that's what we really need the money for. To find out if they have one. If we have the money we can purchase harmless chemicals, try to sell it to them, get to their main base of operations."

"And I assume this is written out?"

"Here sir."

The Emperor took the file and began to read it. "I'll read this over and make my decision by 1900. Understood?"

"Yes sir." That was four hours away. He needed to confer.

Bump for Cotland.

OOC: Sorry about that.

IC: Two days after the explosion, Shaemus was inside another HQ for the Belfast Brigade, preparing himself for the next mission. The capture of the headquarters of a Layartebian telecommunications corporation in downtown Belfast. A thirty-story building with only six security guards during the night, which was when the Irishmen would enter. Some fourty Irishmen would enter the building, complete with the chemical warhead. A VX warhead stolen from the former Kriegos government and stored in a cold place for years. Now it was going to be the trumphcard for the Irishmen and the freedom of Ireland. The plan, codenamed Operation Shamrock, was to start later that night. No-one except the ones who were to enter the building knew of the plan, nor would anyone untill it was carried out.

Bump for Layarteb

Silent alarms were tripped at 0138 that night. Central dispatch in Belfast immediately attempted to contact the buildings' security staff but came with no luck. That was when the investigation began and by 0148 they knew what was going on. Cameras showed masked men enter the building, a truck back up, and a serious weapon being unloaded.

Policemen and SWAT were dispatched immediately, some seventy in total, 12 of them being SWAT. Along with them came military units, four M2A4 Bradley IFVs, a dozen Dingos, and four Bushmaster IMVs with forty-eight men. In addition, six men came in, in secrecy, members of Force Scorpion, a Black Operations unit based in Dublin.

They were basing across the street, in a small, 9 story building, dwarfed by the skyscrapper of the telecommunications building, by at least forty floors.

Shaemus was leading this raid himself, with his personal AKS-74U in his hands. All in all, fourty Irishmen were in the building. Ten were on the first floor, where they had boobytrapped all possible entryways with Semtex. They had also placed some Claymores in the stairwells and disabled all but one elevator. The basements, there were three of them, were also heavily boobytrapped and mined.

Further up the floors, the Irish had people, and on the roof, they had four FIM-186 Wizard MANPADs, stolen from a Layartebian Army Depot, as well as ten RPG-29s and three M240E machine guns, as well as twelve men. If the Layartebians tried to access through the roof, they would have to take severe casualties first.

In the thiry-fifth floor, the Irish had placed their trumphcard. The warhead that carried one hundred and twenty litres of liquid VX gas. It was placed so that the explosion when it was detonated would blast the windows and allow the nervegas to escape down to Belfast quickly. There were two detonators, as well as a proximity detonator. Shaemus had one of the detonators, and Damien, the 2-IC had the other one. All in all, the Irish were heavily armed. G3A3s, M4A1s, AK-74s and AKS-74Us were the main armament, as well as stolen Beretta 92F, Colt M1911s and Tokarev pistols. If the Layartebians tried to storm, the warhead would be detonated.

Shaemus saw the Layartebians arrive in force, and sent the following message to the Layartebians.

We have stated out demands before, and you have blatantly ignored them. You have had your final warning! Now you have to face the consequences. You have only one chance of avoiding a massive death. Withdraw from Ireland immediately and turn power over to the Irish people. You have eight hours to completely withdraw each and every Layartebian citizen from Ireland.

Patrick O'Malley

"Alright men, sit down." They were in the office of a newspaper editor. The building across from the telecommunications building housed a major newspaper, the biggest in all of Belfast and, because of their proximity, they were tossed out as Black Ops and soldiers manned the building left and right. Sitting in the editors office was an entire Force Scorpion team. Giving the briefing would be Colonel Weasley, a veteran of the Black Ops and Special Forces.

http://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Shamrock/shamrock-01.jpg

He cleared this throat. "Alright, we know they've got a chemical warhead there, possibly VX, possibly sarin, who knows. It is up high though. Our plan is to infiltrate the building above the connection bridge, which runs from our building here to theirs.

"We know of machinegun posts here and here," he pointed to a diagram of the building that was drawn for them.

http://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Shamrock/shamrock-02.jpg

"You gentlemen, all four of you, will enter across the bridge, into an open duct. We know they are sufficiently armed and have machine guns there. They will be firing down upon you, so best run. We're going to have second squad back you up with sniper fire." He was talking to Team 6, eight men broken into two squads. "They'll be equipped with M30A5 Special Purpose Rifles, M36 Sniper Rifles, and M41 Sniper Rifles. You will be going in with what you have, though I must commend you on taking the M46 Desert Eagle, you'll need extra penetration and power in there."

http://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Shamrock/shamrock-03.jpg

"We count forty of them, assault rifles, explosives, and grenades. Machine guns are in fewer numbers but they exist. Keep in mind all of this when you break into there. The key is that bomb. We have eight hours for this. I want it done in three. Understood?"

http://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Shamrock/shamrock-04.jpg

"Yes sir!" They responded and so it began. The mission of missions!

Brian was watching the connection bridge on the eight floor when some shadows started running over hte bridge. That wasn't supposed to happen, so he popped off a few bursts from his AK-74, thus getting the attention from everyone. After a few seconds, seven Irishmen were standing in various windows, firing on the Layartebian soldiers with three AK-74s, two M4A1s, one M240E and one RPG-29. If they entered, the thing would be very difficult.

http://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Shamrock/shamrock-05.jpg

Squad 2 was in place and ready, lying prone, hiding behind objects, peering down their scopes at the high-rise. They marked their targets with their minds and slowly looked around as Squad 1 came around behind them. As Squad 1 began to move across the bridge, fast, the whole building exploded with gunfire. Squad 2 immediately went to work, firing at the gunmen but not before it was too late. An RPG slammed into the ground near the end of the bridge, instantly killing two of the men in Squad 2 and one of the men in Squad 1.

http://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Shamrock/shamrock-06.jpg

Gunfire would claim another member of Squad 1, leaving a mere two men to go inside the building whilst two stayed behind. It wasn't enough, that was for sure, but they had to do it, they didn't have time to wait for backup.

http://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Shamrock/shamrock-07.jpg

"Ah shite! A couple o'em got away!"

"Ye screwed up, Brian boy. Shaemus is gonna get a bloody fit."

"Shut up!"

The Irish were not happy right now. Two Layartebians had managed to enter the building. If they were lucky, it would be normal SWAT officers. If they were unlucky, it would be some of their Black Ops people. Brian, who were the leader and the one who detected them, called up Shaemus over their secure radio net. Needless to say, Shaemus was less than happy.

"Ye ignorant, stupid, bloody fool! We're in deep shite now Brian Boy! Find them and kill them!"

Brian acknowledged the orders and started sending men in pairs, with orders to shoot anything suspicious. Many of the ducts leading into the corridors had been fitted with small charges of Semtex, but the Layartebians might be able to defuse those.

Walking in a corridor in the ninth floor, two Irishmen thought they heard a sound in the ventilation ducts and opened up with their M4A1s. Both fired their thirty 5.56 x 45 mm rounds into the duct before they started to reload.

OOC: Feel free to deck them Lay.

The two soldiers dropped into the bridge and took cover. "Squad 1 in. Two guys lost though. Shot on the roof."

"Roger that. Continue mission."

The snipers opened up again and took out the remaining people in the building windows. At the same time, the gunfire inside echoed into the bridge. "Let's get a breeching charge up." One of the soldiers said as the other pulled the small charge from his pack. He put it on the door and they backed away again, finally pulling the trigger and lighting the 5 second fuse. It blew the doors inward, sending smoke everywhere as well as a large chunk of the door.

Inside, they saw the two men firing into the ducts, stunned, and choking from the smoke. Both of the soldiers fired two shots a piece, sending four bullets into each of the men, two going into the chest and two into the head. They were in. Now they had to make their way to the elevator shafts and ascend to where the bomb was, high up in the building.

The terrorists were alert now, and since Shaemus couldn't raise the two terrorists, who were now dead in a corridor in the ninth floor, he assumed that the Layartebians had managed to enter the building, and sent all his terrorists, now there were thirty-four remaining after the two in the ninth floor and four others in various floors had been shot, on highest alert. The VX device were in a closed office in the thirty-fifth floor, and all airducts and the corridor, there were only one leading there, and it had been mined and were unaccessable for anyone.

http://www.planetrainbowsix.com/terrorists/irish_skorpion.jpg
Irish terrorist with a Czech Skorpion (http://world.guns.ru/smg/smg26-e.htm)

The two in the stairway leading to the twelvth floor were sitting ready between the ninth and tenth floors with their weapons aimed at the doorways. One had a Skorpion, the other had a AK-74. If the Layartebian Spec.Ops. tried that door, they would be met with bullets immediately.

:: bump ::

The building was quiet. Both BOFs were crouched, hiding behind a desk on the nineth floor. They were analyzing the situation, using a PDA to view the outside of the building. The PDA was linked to a series of reconnaissance cameras and an orbiting aircraft, all overhead. In addition to the orbiting aircraft they had a single OH-93C Knightowl in the air and they could link to that as well. The one thing the OH-93C had that was an advantage to them was an infrared searching system and they were scanning the building. The PDA, albeit tiny, gave a good view of the building an dwhere the enemy was, for the most part.

That was their go. They picked themselves up on the scan and looked around at the immediate vacinity, picking up two targets not far from them. They nodded and moved towards the door, their rifles shouldered. As they moved towards the targets tehy saw it to be a stairwell. Scanning the PDA again, they smirked and backed away, not standing in front of the doors but at a strong angle and shot diagonally, putting two shots, each, through the door, towards the targets.

Both the terrorists in the stairway fell, but one of them squeezed the trigger of his Skorpion as he fell. The sound made its way up and up and up to the thirty-fifth floor and Shaemus.

"What the fuck is happening down there?!" he cried out as he peeked out through the curtains and straight into a Layartebian helicopter some fourty meters away. The sight gave him a shock and he jumped back. How the hell could they have found them? That was it. They had to bring down that damned helicopter.

"Rooftop, this is Shaemus. What the fuck is that bloody helicopter doing down here?! Shoot it down NOW!"

The lads on the rooftop had been busy drinking the whiskey they had brought along and popping off rounds onto the small vehicles down below, not noticing the large helicopter that was hovering around the 35th floor. Now, however, one of the lads picked up one of the FIM-186 Wizard MANPADs and aimed it out over and down on the helicopter. When he got a tone, he fired the missile and popped quickly back in on the roof.

Meanwhile, Shaemus had ordered all the Irishmen, with the exception of the ones on the roof, to get down to the thirty-fifth floor and make a deathtrap for the Layartebians. If the shit hit the proverbial fan, Shaemus would detonate the warhead. If he survived, that is...