Chapter 8 – Operation Broken Trident

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Chapter 8 – Operation Broken Trident

⚔️ Dublin South Dockyards, 23:11

Mist rolled in thick from the Irish Sea, wrapping rusted cranes and shipping containers in a cold ghostly veil. The team assembled behind stacked freight crates, checking weapons under dim red tactical lights.

Salty stood at the front, arms folded across his chest, his gravelly voice cutting through the cold air:

“Omega Prime is dug in deep. Heavy drones, sniper nests, exo-rig shock troops. So tonight, we counter them with our best.”

He gestured behind him with a thumb.

🦸‍♂️ Enter Ye Olde Large Lad

Emerging from the shadows came Ye Olde Large Lad, a colossal figure standing 6’5”, built like an ancient Celtic fortress with shoulders broad enough to block a doorway. His shaved head gleamed under the tactical lamps, and a crooked grin split his rugged face.

He carried a breaching sledgehammer in one hand and a belt-fed M249 SAW cradled under the other arm like it was a child’s toy.

“Who we killin’ tonight, boss?” he rumbled in his thick Louth accent, voice as deep as a quarry pit.

Ruairí smirked, nodding to his sledgehammer. “What’s that for, Lad, in case we run out of bullets?”

Ye Olde Large Lad just chuckled, slinging the hammer over his back. “Sometimes I like to feel their bones crunch.”

🦅 Salty’s Favourite Operatives

Salty turned to address the rest:

  1. WhizzAir – the wiry, caffeine-addled drone hacker.

  2. Winky – the squat Cork demolitions expert with an eye patch.

  3. Funji – half-Japanese silent assassin with dual MP5Ks.

  4. Squallshy – the gentle Nigerian sniper with a .50 Barrett.

Each nodded grimly, checking magazines, optics, and battery packs.

💥 The Plan

Salty pointed at the flickering tactical overlay projected onto the container wall.

“Ye Olde Large Lad breaches the dock gate and draws fire. WhizzAir jams Omega drones. Funji clears the south wing silent kills. Squallshy covers the north silo with his Barrett. Winky, you’re on C4 entry points and secondary exits. Susan leads fireteam alpha, Sarah and Niamh with me to the server rooms.”

⚡ Humour Break

WhizzAir snorted softly. “Ye Olde Large Lad, what’s your call sign again? Hulk?”

“Nah,” he grinned, racking the M249 with a satisfying metallic clack, “it’s Ye Olde Large Lad – destroyer of doorframes and pelvises.”

Winky roared with laughter, nearly dropping his detonators. “Remind me never to wrestle ya, lad.”

🔥 Salty’s Final Command

Salty scanned their faces, each bruised, tired, but unbreakable.

“Stay sharp. Stay safe. The chopper will be waiting on the north quay in 30 minutes. We go in, we hit them hard, and we leave legends.”

Sarah smiled faintly, whispering under her breath, “Legends don’t leave, Seán. They live forever.”

🗡️ The March to War

They rose as one, moving into formation behind Ye Olde Large Lad as he stomped forward with his hammer resting across his broad shoulders, ready to breach Omega’s gates and send fear through their lines.

Above, dawn began to stain the sea clouds blood-red – an omen of what was to come.


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