Chapter 5 – Ballsbridge Raid
⚔️ Omega Safehouse – Ballsbridge, Dublin, 03:27
Rain hammered the glass walls of the high-rise penthouse. Omega guards patrolled the corridors, clad in black ceramic armour and armed with suppressed KRISS Vector SMGs. Inside the main lab, scientists bustled around glowing cryo pods, ignoring the distant rumbles of thunder.
In the command chamber, Niamh stood beside Rahman Patel, Omega’s new fixer for Ireland. He was a slick, rat-faced man in an Armani suit, gold rings glittering on his fingers. On his tablet, photos scrolled of container ships filled with illegal immigrants arriving into Belfast before being smuggled south through hidden border routes.
“These Afghans, Pakistanis, Indians… we place them in key districts. Each one registered under fake names, ready to vote and manipulate local councils at our command.”
Niamh crossed her arms. “And the government?”
Rahman sneered. “Bought and paid for. Corruption is cheaper than war.”
💥 The Raid Begins
Outside, Funji scaled the east balcony, twin tanto blades strapped across his back. He slipped in through a maintenance hatch, slitting the throat of the first guard with surgical precision. Blood sprayed the glass partition in a silent arc.
🦾 Basement Breach
In the underground carpark, Ye Olde Large Lad smashed his hammer into the steel roller shutter. Sparks and metal screamed as it buckled inward. Omega guards turned, raising SMGs, but his M249 thundered in a brutal sweeping arc, stitching them into the concrete walls.
“Don’t block me hammer swing, lads,” he grunted, reloading with mechanical calm.
🔫 Main Entry – Salty and Sarah
Salty and Sarah moved in low under the thermal vision blinds. Sarah’s tight tank top was soaked from the rain, clinging to her curves beneath her tactical vest. Her blonde hair was tied back in a sleek bun, droplets running down her exposed neck.
Salty tried to focus on the enemy ahead but caught her chest in his peripheral vision. She noticed and smirked, whispering:
**“Eyes front, boss. Targets only.”
They advanced down the marble corridor. Two Omega guards rounded the corner. Salty’s H&K barked twice – headshots both. Sarah fired her Glock, a clean double tap to the chest of another guard who stumbled out from the lab door.
🎯 Squallshy’s Cover
From the Crowne Plaza rooftop, Squallshy lined up a distant exo-rig trooper on thermal scope.
BOOM!
The round slammed through the Omega trooper’s visor, snapping his head back with a spray of brain matter. Over comms, Squallshy hummed an old Yoruba gospel, each kill punctuating his melody like percussion.
⚡ Funji’s Discovery
Inside the lab, Funji crouched by a bank of servers. His fingers danced across the touchscreens, eyes narrowing as file after file flashed open.
“Boss, you need to see this. Omega’s been smuggling thousands via Rahman’s network. Paying off Dublin and Belfast officials. Creating hidden voting blocs, micro-economies, debt slavery networks. Ireland is a stepping stone for their European demographic control.”
Salty’s face darkened with cold fury.
“Download everything. Burn the servers after.”
💀 Rahman Patel’s Escape
In the command chamber, Rahman grabbed Niamh by the wrist. “Come. We’re leaving before that thug arrives.”
But Niamh paused, her gaze distant. “No… I think I’ll stay.”
Rahman scowled. “Stupid girl.”
As he turned to flee, Salty kicked the door open, H&K raised. Rahman froze, his grin sickly.
“Mr. Salty. We meet at last.”
Salty fired one round into his knee. Rahman collapsed screaming. Sarah walked up, pressing her Glock to his forehead.
“How many lives have you sold today, scumbag?”
Rahman whimpered, clutching his shattered leg. “I-I can pay you… double what Omega offers.”
Salty glanced at Sarah, then back to Rahman with cold disdain.
“Your money’s as dirty as your soul.”
He nodded to Sarah. She pulled the trigger. Blood sprayed the marble as Rahman slumped lifeless.
💥 Escape
Funji lit the thermite charges on the servers as alarms screamed. Omega reinforcements stormed the building but were cut down by Ye Olde Large Lad’s hammer and Funji’s silent fury.
Outside, their extraction chopper hovered, rotor wash whipping rain into horizontal sheets as the team boarded under heavy covering fire from Squallshy.
💪 Final Words
Inside the chopper, Sarah leaned against Salty’s chest, breathing hard, rain-soaked tank top clinging tight against her curves. He wrapped an arm around her, resting his cheek against her wet hair.
“Good work today,” he murmured.
She smiled tiredly. “You’re buying me dinner after this.”
Salty chuckled softly, eyes narrowing at the burning skyline of Ballsbridge below them.
“Only if we survive tomorrow.”
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