Chapter 7 – The Double Agent
⚔️ Na Fianna Nua Command Bunker – Dublin Mountains, 02:08
Cold mist coiled around the pine trees outside the underground bunker. Inside, glowing screens filled the dim room with tactical overlays, satellite feeds, and intercepted Omega comms.
Salty sat in the steel command chair, jaw clenched, eyes locked on a grainy CCTV still of Niamh hugging Rahman Patel in Brussels just weeks before his death. Sarah stood behind him, arms folded, her cleavage straining slightly against her black tactical vest as she leaned forward to read the file.
“It’s true, then,” she murmured. “She’s been feeding Omega intel for months.”
Salty’s fists tightened. “She nearly got us all killed. And for what… money? Power? Protection?”
💥 The Interrogation
Down in holding cell four, Niamh sat chained to the bolted chair, head bowed. Her once-perfect makeup streaked down tear-stained cheeks. Funji stood beside her, silent and motionless, blades glinting under the flickering fluorescent light.
Salty walked in, Ye Olde Large Lad looming behind him like an executioner.
“Look at me, Niamh.”
She lifted her eyes, hollow with exhaustion. “Seán… I didn’t want this.”
“But you did it anyway,” he growled softly. “Selling out your own people. Working with Rahman Patel to import infected immigrants, laundering Omega blood money through your political NGO… You’ve become everything we’re fighting.”
She shook her head, sobbing. “They would have killed me. They said they’d kill my family in Kerry if I didn’t help.”
Ye Olde Large Lad spat on the ground. “Bollocks. They were in Spain on holidays, woman. We checked.”
🎯 The Truth Revealed
Sarah stepped forward, arms crossed under her chest. “She knew exactly what she was doing, boss. Look at the payment logs.”
She flicked her tablet screen. Payments from Omega shell companies scrolled in six-figure sums, funnelled through a Dublin account under Niamh’s false name.
Niamh whispered, defeated. “I just wanted to survive in the new order. Omega promised me safety… power… a future.”
Salty leaned down, his cold blue eyes inches from hers.
“Omega promises nothing but death.”
⚡ Using Her Betrayal
He turned to Funji. “Keep her alive. We’ll feed Omega false intel through her comms.”
Niamh gasped. “You’re using me as bait?”
Salty smirked darkly. “You used us for months. Consider it repayment.”
🚁 The Next Mission Briefing
Back upstairs, the team gathered in the war room. Squallshy leaned back in his chair, Barrett propped against his leg, chewing on a protein bar.
“So what’s next, boss? We gonna nuke Brussels or what?”
Salty traced the digital map with a gloved finger. Omega routes lit up in red across Ireland and Europe.
“Omega’s next convoy lands in Cork tomorrow at dawn. Pakistani, Afghan, and Indian migrants, infected with their engineered parasites to spread across Europe. We stop them there, or it’s game over.”
🔫 Team Humour
Ye Olde Large Lad grunted, loading fresh belts into his M249. “Anyone else think these parasite lads would make shite drinking buddies?”
Winky piped up while polishing his smiley-faced RPG. “Imagine them at the pub. ‘I’ll have a pint of blood, please.’”
Everyone groaned. Sarah chuckled softly, resting her head against Salty’s shoulder for a moment.
“We’ll stop them,” she whispered. “We always do.”
Salty kissed her forehead lightly, feeling her warmth amidst the cold steel of the bunker.
“Not always, Sarah. But tonight… we will.”
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