Chapter 9 – The Battle of Dublin Docklands
⚔️ Dublin South Dockyards, 04:47
Thick dawn mist coiled around shipping containers and cranes as Na Fianna Nua advanced silently. Overhead, Omega drones buzzed in holding patterns, scanning for movement.
Salty crouched behind a burned-out forklift, raising his fist to halt the team. Through his NVGs, he saw the heat signatures of Omega Prime’s exo-rig enforcers – hulking figures clad in powered armour, their miniguns whirring as they patrolled the loading bays.
He clicked his throat mic.
“Ye Olde Large Lad. Gate breach. Now.”
💥 Lad’s Rampage
Ye Olde Large Lad lumbered forward, sledgehammer in one massive hand, M249 SAW slung across his back. He reached the heavy steel dock gate, planted his feet, and swung.
CRANG!
The reinforced barrier crumpled inward like cheap aluminium, the clang echoing across the yard. Omega Prime guards spun in shock as the giant operative strode through the twisted metal, roaring:
“HELLO, BOYS!”
He unshouldered his SAW, bracing it against his hip, and squeezed the trigger. The belt-fed beast unleashed a blistering torrent of 5.56mm rounds, shredding the first two enforcers before they could raise their weapons.
One Omega trooper, panicking, fired his minigun wildly. Bullets sparked off Ye Olde Large Lad’s chest plate as he advanced calmly, sledgehammer swinging in an overhead arc.
CRUNCH!
The hammer connected with the trooper’s exo-helmet, caving it in with a sickening metallic crack. Blood sprayed the concrete.
🦅 The Team Advances
Behind him, Funji slipped through shadows, suppressed MP5Ks chattering softly as Omega riflemen dropped one by one.
WhizzAir, hiding behind a forklift, flicked his wristpad, releasing four mini drones into the sky. They zipped upwards, jamming Omega drone feeds and painting targets for Squallshy’s overwatch.
🎯 Squallshy’s Sniper Poetry
Perched atop a rusted silo, Squallshy watched through his Barrett’s scope, humming a Yoruba battle song.
BOOM!
An Omega sniper’s head vaporised into a crimson mist.
BOOM!
Another exo-rig trooper fell backwards, his chest plate shattered by the .50 round.
“Wind two knots south-east… adjust… goodbye,” he whispered calmly as each trigger pull dropped another enemy.
💣 Winky’s Fireworks
Inside the main dock warehouse, Winky knelt by a fuel pipeline, humming happily as he wired C4 charges along its length.
“Bang bang… bye bye,” he sang softly, flicking the detonator safety off.
💀 Final Push
Salty led Sarah and Niamh through the loading office, clearing rooms with lethal precision. Sarah’s Glock barked short, controlled shots. Salty’s H&K 416 thundered in three-round bursts. Niamh, pale but focused, hacked Omega’s local comms, blinding their reinforcements.
🚁 Exfil
Over comms, Susan’s voice crackled. “Blackbird inbound. Two minutes.”
Outside, the rhythmic thump-thump-thump of rotor blades approached as a matte-black UH-60 swooped in over the quay. Fast ropes dropped, swaying in the salt breeze.
Salty keyed his throat mic. “Team, extraction. Move!”
🦸♂️ Ye Olde Large Lad’s Last Stand
As the team retreated, Ye Olde Large Lad turned, covering their withdrawal. His SAW barrel glowed red-hot as he unleashed suppressive fire at advancing Omega enforcers.
“GO!” he bellowed. “I’ll be right behind ya!”
At the last second, he threw his smoking SAW over his back, grabbed his sledgehammer, and charged forward, swinging it in wide arcs, smashing exo-rig faceplates and crushing Omega skulls like eggs.
Finally, with a roar, he sprinted for the chopper, Funji and Squallshy hauling him up the ropes as bullets sparked off his armour.
🌅 The Escape
Inside the vibrating belly of the UH-60, Salty looked around at his team – bruised, bloodied, but alive.
He met Ye Olde Large Lad’s tired grin, fresh blood splattered across his cheek.
“Hell of a workout, boss,” the giant rumbled.
Salty cracked a rare smile, clapping his massive shoulder.
“Aye. You did good, lad. You all did.”
As the chopper banked west into the rising sun, Dublin smouldered below them – Omega’s stranglehold shattered by Na Fianna Nua’s unstoppable fury.
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