Chapter 2 – Sgt. Salty and the Case of the Missing Child
When the Gardaí come knocking, you know something serious is afoot. Usually, Sgt. Salty’s name appears in reports under the headings “public disturbance” or “noise complaints after midnight tank parades.” But this time, the call was different. A child had gone missing in the area, and the Gardaí were combing fields, lanes, and backroads for any sign.
In moments like this, even misfits have a role to play.
The Call for Help
It was early afternoon when Sgt. Salty was summoned. He was halfway through patching up The Rustbucket with duct tape when a uniformed Garda leaned over the scrapyard gate.
“Salty, we could use a hand,” the officer said. “A child’s missing. Whole community’s out searching.”
Salty froze. He might have been a rogue, a wheeler-dealer, and a walking health hazard with a spanner in hand, but when it came to protecting the vulnerable, he was first in line.
“Right,” he said, snapping his fingers. “Troops! Saddle up—we’ve got a mission!”
The Misfits Mobilise
Within minutes, the yard exploded with activity.
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Ye Old Large Lad emerged with a backpack the size of a fridge, stuffed with snacks. “In case the kid’s hungry,” he said earnestly.
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WhizzAir Winky revved up a quadbike so loud it scared the pigeons into the next county.
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Windy scribbled a “search plan,” which mostly consisted of arrows pointing in random directions.
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McFinleyyy declared, “Leave the charm to me, lads. Kids love me.” (They didn’t.)
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Sarah and Susan rolled their eyes, but still packed water bottles, torches, and spare blankets.
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Yasmine said nothing, just sharpened her gaze and double-checked the radios.
Salty himself stood proud, flag in hand. An Irish tricolour, slightly singed at the edges from the last tank mishap, but still flying strong. He climbed onto the turret of The Rustbucket, hammered it into place, and shouted:
“By land, by field, or by city street—we’ll find the wee one!”
The Garda Search
By the time Salty’s crew rolled into the fields, the Gardaí were already working in lines, volunteers spaced out carefully, moving through hedgerows and tall grass. Dogs barked, handlers called out, and the air buzzed with tension.
Salty parked the tank at the edge of the field. A senior Garda eyed the machine warily. “You can’t actually drive that thing in here, Salty.”
“Course not,” Salty said innocently, already pulling on his helmet. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Moments later, The Rustbucket rumbled into the meadow like an angry iron cow, flattening thistles and leaving a trail wide enough to host a motorway.
“Salty!” the Garda roared. “I said NO tank!”
“Relax,” Salty shouted back. “Think of it as… clearing a path!”
Into Dublin
After hours of searching the countryside, whispers spread—the child may have wandered toward the city. That was all Salty needed to hear.
He swung the tank toward the main road, flag fluttering, headlights blazing. The crew piled on like a carnival act, Sarah and Susan perched on the back with binoculars, WhizzAir dangling dangerously from the side, and Large Lad hanging off the turret like a heroic figurehead.
As they thundered toward Dublin, motorists pulled over, phones out to record the spectacle. Social media lit up instantly: “Tank flying Irish flag spotted on N7 – is this a protest or St. Patrick’s Day early?”
Salty ignored the chaos. His voice crackled over the radio. “Eyes sharp, people! Check every alley, every corner. We’re not stoppin’ till we’ve searched high and low.”
Street-Level Searches
In Dublin’s southside, the Gardaí directed volunteers through parks and laneways. Salty’s tank drew more attention than help, but that didn’t stop him.
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Large Lad lifted manhole covers with his bare hands.
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WhizzAir zipped up and down streets, occasionally stopping to ask confused shopkeepers if they’d “seen a small fella about yay-high.”
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Windy climbed lampposts for a “better view,” only to get stuck halfway.
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McFinleyyy went door-to-door, charming pensioners with promises of “nearly free scratch cards” if they joined the search.
Through it all, the Irish flag fluttered on the turret, a symbol of solidarity.
SEO Pause: Community Spirit in Missing Child Searches
While this blog is full of misfit antics, it’s important to highlight the seriousness of a missing child search. In Ireland and beyond, community involvement can be crucial. Gardaí searches often include:
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Line searches across open fields.
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Door-to-door checks in towns and cities.
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Use of dogs, drones, and helicopters.
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Community volunteers covering ground quickly.
The Irish public has a long history of rallying together in times of crisis. Whether it’s organising local volunteers, making tea for searchers, or even just spreading the word on social media, every effort helps.
Sgt. Salty may not be a model citizen, but his determination reflects the spirit of community support that makes a difference.
The Long Night
As evening fell, the streets of Dublin glowed under orange lamplight. Salty and his crew were still at it, tank parked outside a community centre where volunteers gathered.
Sarah and Susan handed out blankets to tired searchers. Large Lad brewed tea in a pot big enough to drown a sheep. Yasmine checked in with Garda radios, her calm voice cutting through the static.
Salty stood on the turret, cap in hand. “We’ll search till dawn if we have to. No child gets left behind, not on my watch.”
The Garda inspector, weary but grateful, finally gave him a nod. “Mad as you are, Salty… we’re glad you showed up.”
A Hint of Hope
Just as the crew were about to call it a night, a call crackled over the Garda radios. A possible sighting. A small figure had been spotted near the docks.
Salty snapped his cap back on. “Troops! Mount up—we’ve got a lead!”
Engines roared, the flag caught the wind, and Dublin’s night air filled with the unmistakable growl of The Rustbucket.
The chase was on.
Final Thoughts
Chapter 2 of the Misfit Chronicles shows Sgt. Salty at his most determined. From flattening fields to parading through Dublin, he and his crew turned their chaos toward a cause that mattered. Because when a child goes missing, even misfits rally together.
Stay tuned for Chapter 3, where we’ll follow Salty and his crew as the search reaches the Dublin docks—and chaos is never far behind.
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