Realistic or Modern A Family Affair: The Irish Mob - IC (Ended)

[Misty Gray]

James Porter and Richard Duncan
​

Richard had stepped away from behind the bar and was standing by the pool table setting up the balls ready for the next players. When the pub doors were pushed open, he looked up to see James, Rudolph and Nathan entering the pub. The landlord managed to hide his apprehension as he look to the three men. He started to walk to the bar when James called out for him to stay where he was. Soon enough, the pub was cleared out by Rudolph and the doors locked, leaving just the three Duncans to face the three Porters. Fair game, like James had intended. "If this is about the gambling, we've knocked it on the head since the other week, after your guys caught us..."

"I'm willing to bet what you just said is a load of bullshit, Rich," James spoke over the man. "Everything you have said to me and my men lately has been a pack of lies, so why the fuck would I believe you this time?" Before the man could answer, James raised his hand to silence him again and took a few steps closer, stopping a few feet from Richard and alongside the pool table. "I'm here for something different. I've heard about the robberies," he announced, glancing to to the other four men before focusing back on Richard. "I know you and your family are behind them. You've been robbing from businesses and civilians have been killed in the process. Hell, you guys even hurt Cliff - one of the nicest old blokes in this city," he said, clearly disgusted by that fact.

"That wasn't us," Richard began, with little conviction to his words. As he spoke, he reached to his waist to grab his handgun. Having expected the move, James quickly reached out to retrieve one of the pool balls and threw it at Richard, smacking the side of the man's forehead. Richard dropped the gun onto the floor and yelled out in pain as his hands instinctively moved to his throbbing skull. Confident Rudolph and Nathan would keep the other two Duncans busy, James made a beeline for the landlord. Whilst he was pissed off the man had reached for his gun, he was in a way glad, finding it much more satisfying beating up a guy who was attempting to fight back. "Please..." Richard began. He kept one hand pressed against his forehead as he reached out to grab an empty beer bottle and swiped it at James, who quickly raised his arm, allowing his muscular forearm to take the brunt of the bottle's impact before grabbing Richard's wrist, twisting his arm until he dropped the bottle on the floor. He then punched the man in his lower left abdomen.

"Your lot are a bunch of bullshitters!" James shouted at Richard, grabbing the collar of his shirt with both hands and slamming his back against the mahogany bar. Porter glanced to the reflections of Nathan and Rudolph in the distant mirror behind the bar. If they hadn't already taken the cue, it was time for them to teach Patrick and Johaan a lesson too. As planned, the men had been told to go a little easier on Johaan, their secret informant.


LateForDinner (Nathan) Shireling (Rudolph) Enzyme (Johaan) Pyroclast (Patrick)
...have fun.

 

[Pyroclast]

Syd Porter

Syd sat in the backseat of Jackson's Cresta as the three men drove up to Drogheda. It had been three weeks now since his uncle had returned from prison, but Syd hadn't seen him very much during that time. He seemed to carry a different air about him now and Syd wasn't quite sure how to behave around him. Perhaps it was just taking a while for the man to readjust. Syd had made promises on numerous occasions to Sinead that he and the rest of the gang would keep an eye on Peter, so, with this being his first job since his arrest, it seemed like a good time to start doing just that.

For now, however, Syd's main focus was getting this job done as smoothly as possible. He nodded to Jackson, passing his hand subtly over the M1911 slotted in his holster in preparation for a worst case scenario. "Ti Chairb? " he read aloud to himself, noting the dilapidated exterior of the establishment. Unfortunately, it didn't stick out from its surroundings. The city itself appeared to be just as run down, a slum compared to his own neighbourhood in Dublin. Syd didn't mind, though - he found the change of scene brought a thrill to the job.

Despite its unappealing appearance, the three men walked into the pub to find that it was in fact thriving. Syd had no idea what this man Johnathan looked like, so he followed Jackson and Peter as they weaved between the tables. Clearly the men were playing poker, and Syd kept a calm yet cold expression on his face. As soon as Jackson singled out their alcoholic accountant, the thick slur in his response made his inebriation evident.

A fresh cigar held stiffly between his lips, Eddie looked up from his hand to see the new arrivals approaching their table. He watched the interaction with a look of scorn upon his face, and when the table erupted in agreement with Davin, Eddie folded his cards away and put them in his pocket as he slowly stood up, revealing his large, imposing build. Still biting down on his cigar, he walked around the table right up to where Jackson stood and puffed smoke into the man's face. "Who t'fuck d'ye think you are," he snarled, looking Jackson up and down before fixing his icy glare on the man's eyes. "Comin' in 'ere and tellin' my boys what to do?" Eddie stared hard at Peter and Syd in turn for a few seconds, before turning back to Jackson. "Dav 'ere says he ain't leavin' 'til we're done with this game. Now, I'm more inclined to listen to him than I am to youse, so why don't ye go and enjoy a few pints by the bar there, and we'll let ye know when John's ready to talk wit' ye?" Eddie brought a hand firmly down on Jackson's shoulder and, in a deliberately patronising manner, turned him towards the bar.

Interactions
Enzyme Jackson, Johnathan
Bellz Peter, Davin

 

[Enzyme]

Jackson McCarthy​

Jackson's eyes flicked to the large man. The rest of the table seemingly agreed in unison. Jackson returned Peter's glare, letting out a small, exasperated sigh. The bartender leaned over the table, calling out to the men if they wanted anything to drink. "Nah, we're just leavin'," Jackson responded, before looking back over at the table. The men hadn't taken their eyes off of the trio. From their glares, they weren't welcoming. John had been the only one to not stare at them, partially due to the fact that it looked as if he could hardly move.

John grumbled and slouched down into his chair until his chin was about level with the table. His once nice suit had been creased and jumbled, his tie laying over his blazer. His knuckles laid against the table, basically flashing his cards to everyone at the table. Jackson shrugged at their audacity, pointing his finger down to John. "Look at 'im. He can hardly sit up. You expect him to be able to play cards?" Jackson scoffed. The other man quickly added in, his accent far thicker than most Jackson had heard. He got close to Jackson, blowing cigar smoke directly in his face as he spoke.

Jackson had just about enough of dealing with hostile pricks. He had visited Drogheda in the past and the people were always the same; blokes with sticks up their arses, waiting for any excuse to bite your head off.

The patronizing tone had dug into Jackson more than it should of, leading him to shove his hand against the man's chest to push him back. "Oi! Don't fuckin' touch me, mate!" Jackson barked in an assertive tone, despite the bulky man towering over him in height. After the shove forcefully made space, Jackson attempted to regain his composure.

"Come on." Jackson grabbed under John's arm. The man was practically deadweight, along with some resistance. John's hand dropped the cards while his other tried to grab onto the table. "I'm not done yet," he grumbled, his words barely coherent. Jackson grabbed onto the man's tie, forcing him up to his feet. "Yes you are," Jackson bluntly said, motioning for Peter to help carry him out. The accountant had caused enough trouble and with Jackson in such an irritable mood, it was taking every ounce of self-control not to split John's head open on the table.

Bellz (Peter) Pyroclast (Syd)

 

[Pyroclast]

Syd Porter

"WHAT'D I JUST SAY?" Eddie roared, blatantly offended at Jackson's refusal to leave them alone. The pub fell silent and all eyes turned their way. Syd glanced around the room nervously, unsure of what to do. Eddie had a short fuse and when things didn't go his way, he made no effort to restrain himself. He shoved John forcefully from Jackson's grip, causing the drunken man to fall clumsily to the ground, and moved to stand between the two of them. "If John says he's not done, then he's not fuckin' going home wit' youse!" Fire and fury in his eyes, Eddie glared at Jackson, ash from his cigar falling onto the narrow patch of ground between their feet. As if operated by a switch, his voice turned quiet and calm. "Where is it you be takin' him?"

Syd cleared his throat, drawing Eddie's attention away from Jackson. "His boss needs to speak to him," he spoke up, trying to sound confident under all the menacing glares. "He's coming back to Dublin with us."

"That's not home," Eddie spat, turning back to Jackson. "Ye said ye was bringin' him home. Are ye after lyin' to me, then?" He took a few steps forward into Jackson's space so he would have to step back. Syd glanced anxiously to Peter and put his hand on his gun, ready to pull it out if things escalated. His heart was beating fast - the last time he had had to use a gun there had been no question of when to shoot, but this situation seemed to require more careful judgement, and Syd felt pressured to know when that moment would be. If he got it wrong, it could mean Jackson or Peter's life, or even his own.

Eddie knew that Jackson was right, of course; John was in no fit state to be playing poker properly, and they had all seen his hand by now. But the fact was that the drunk owed money - a considerable sum of money - to a number of men at the table, including himself. That these newcomers seemed to know John was deeply suspicious to Eddie. For all he knew, this could all be a ruse to rescue the fool from his gambling debts. Eddie wasn't going to let the man out of his sight.

Interactions
Enzyme Jackson, Johnathan
Bellz Peter, Davin

 

[Enzyme]

Jackson McCarthy​

Jackson had been in the process of distributing John's weight to Peter when Eddie violently shoved the accountant. The move was completely unexpected, causing him to slip right from Jackson's grip almost effortlessly. John, in no position to brace for impact, collapsed head first against a stool. The stool skidded out from under John's weight, causing his head to smash against the wood floor. Unsure if the second impact had done him in, perhaps when he hit the stool, John sprawled across the floor unconscious. The cease of chatter was nearly instantaneous.

The large man continued to shout at the trio, refusing to let them leave. It was clear that the men at the table wanted to exploit John's inebriation to empty his pockets and weren't going to let that chance slip by.

Eddie stepped closer to the group, separating them from John. Jackson remained crouched by John, refusing to look up, afraid that he wouldn't be able to control himself if he looked the man in the eyes. Despite his vision locked on the ground, he could feel all the eyes on the pub stabbing into his back.

Jackson heard Syd speak up. Despite his attempts to sound assertive, his voice was understandably stitched with terror. Jackson, however, reached his boiling point when Eddie turned his attention to Syd and began threatening the kid.

The strike had caught everyone off guard, including it's target. As Jackson spun around and shot up like a spring, connecting his fist to the bottom of Eddie's chin in a vicious uppercut, time seemed to slow down. Once his knuckles connected, he could feel each individual tooth wiggle in place, as Eddie hadn't been given the chance to properly tense up. His top and bottom teeth clasped together, causing a loud, awful clicking sound to erupt. Jackson followed all the way through with the punch, snapping Eddie's head back. The sudden shift in weight caused Eddie to fall back and collapse on the very table they had been playing on, sending bills and coins into the air.

Pyroclast (Syd/Eddie) Bellz (Peter/Davin)

 

[Bellz]

Peter Callahan​

Things weren't going to go as smoothly as planned it seemed as Eddie stood up from the table, his large build practically filling up the entire pub...or at least that's what it felt like. Davin nodded his head in agreement with Eddie's words quickly, reaching for his now empty glass as the bartender hollered out to the trio. "I could use another one! Never asking me!" He barked towards the bar. Looking to Eddie, his body seemed to dip with the way his head was moving, clearly intoxicated. Peter watched Davin closely as Jackson tried to talk reason with these idiots.

Peter took a step forward towards Jackson as Eddie then laid a hand on his shoulder, aggressively shoving him in the direction of the exit. Peter's hand gripped his gun inside his coat, jaw clenching as his own anger was starting to build. Jackson shoved the man back before turning back to what they came for. Peter quickly reached to her, grabbing under John's other arm and lifting him up off the chair. The man was claiming he wasn't done yet, "You look like shit." Peter told the man bluntly, "Smell like it too." His nose scrunched in distaste. Clearly his card buddies were not pleased but when Eddie began screaming at them, Peter nearly dropped John in alarm. His whole body tensed and his heart started beating fast, his stomach dropping. With Eddie's forceful shove against John, Peter stumbled and tried hard to keep a grip on the man. John slipped from both Jackson and Peter's grasp, causing him to hit his head several time and before he sprawled out unconscious. The room had become silent all except for Eddie's hollering.

Hearing Syd clear his throat, the young man spoke for the first time. Peter was impressed with the boys bravery. He was clearly trying to sound firm but Peter could hear the panic in his voice. Eddie briefly turned his attention to Syd before turning it back to Jackson. The blonde man stepped away from John, who was still unconscious and moved towards Syd, catching the anxiousness in his eyes. His heart was still racing, but his own emotions would be put on the back burner if Syd needed his help.

Peter had only taken his eyes away from the scene for a moment, but within that short second, Jackson had lost all control. Eye going wide, Peter spun around to see Eddie and Jackson crashing down on the table. The whole room was still, as if no one knew how to react at first. Peter looked to the other thugs and suddenly a wide smile formed on Davin's face before he came storming towards Peter and Syd. Instincts screamed for him to grab his gun but he found himself surging forward, adrenaline pumping through his veins. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Davin howled out before throwing a punch with his left aimed towards the side of Peter's head, a clumsy shot. The large man's moves were predictable and being sober earned him even more control over the situation. Ducking below the punch, Peter used the sudden force to lunge forward, grabbing the man's legs and pushing him towards the ground. Davin began falling backwards like a giant tree stump. Peter and him crashed against the hard ground, landing on John. As he tried to get up, the large man began clumsily flailing his fists about, landing a punch against Peter's left eye. "Fuck!" Peter hissed out, getting angrier at the man. Clumsily, Peter shuffled to his feet as Davin slowly pulled himself to his feet. Looking towards Syd, he motioned for the lad to get the hell out if he could before he was pulled back by another large member of the poker game, spinning Peter around to face him. Peter punched the man in the gut as hard as he could before he was roughly thrown to the side, stumbling uncontrollably with the force until he hit a wall.
with: Jackson Enzyme ; Syd Pyroclast

 

[Bellz]

Lucy Porter​

Lucy chuckled lightly as Aidan questioned her, stating that James wouldn't be happy about what she was doing. She was well aware that she needed to be resting as much as possible, but it was absolutely boring. "That's why its going to be a secret." Lucy reminded him as she took the gloves from him at first. Placing them on each hand, she then grabbed the watering can and motioned for Aidan to follow her. For a moment, she was fine with the silence. Lucy noticed a change in Aidan from the moment he arrived, she wasn't sure what it was but something was different about the man. Not able to come up with a reason as to why, Lucy's thoughts went on to think about other things. In all honesty, the real reason as to why she wanted to busy herself with task was because she was worried about James. Of course, she had faith in his abilities and he never failed to return home to her...but with everything they had been through she couldn't help but wonder how she would react if he never made it back to her.

The blonde's face tensed with concern and she slowed her pace as she stopped in front of her favorite rose bush. Turning to face it, she began picking off some of the dead petals, grooming the flowers silently. After a long moment of silence, Lucy heard Aidan sigh causing her to curiously look to the young man. "You alright?" She asked lightly, "You are more quiet that usual...something on your mind?" She welcomed any distraction from her own negative thoughts.

with: Aidan @Rusty of Shackleford

 

[LateForDinner]

Nathan Bennett
​

The past few weeks under the employment of James and his family have flown by, as Nathan has now met many of the other employees and became fully acquainted with the long history of the Porters. Small tasks here and there to build up his knowledge and experience. Nathan has taken the time to understand each rival they face, ensuring that nothing is being kept from him. Although he's aware that he's new to the family, he hoped that his previous experiences with James put him in a unique spot. The marksman only wished that he could experience another home-cooked meal from the dear Mrs Porter, she had a way with creating the most elegant meals. Yet, Nathan felt himself more relaxed and integrated into the family. Even if this was to be his first encounter with the Duncans.

As he waited in the car with James and Rudy, he leaned his head forward to take in the gentleman exiting the bar. His nerves played up a little in his stomach, mainly because of the pressure he was under to perform this mission well. He had no doubts in his skills. Nathan watched as Danny informed them, giving them a clear idea of who is in the pub. It didn't seem too difficult. Nathan has been getting into scraps since he was a little boy. His gaze promptly shifted as James turned to speak to them, providing clear instructions on how he wants this night to go. "Sounds good, Boss." His tone was light, but serious, as he knew that it wasn't something to joke about. Nathan simply felt confident about being under James' leadership. The bodyguard then moved out the car with the duo, shutting the door and adjusting his coat as he walked towards the pub. "Ready."

Nathan quirked an eyebrow at Rudy's advice, wondering whether or not it came with good connotations. Either way, he took a mental note and simply nodded in response. "I'm on them like a hawk, Rudy. Don't you worry." He smirked, standing by the door as Rudy ushered the patrons from the scene. After the bar was left with the intended people, Nathan turned to quickly lock the door and pull a chair to stop it from opening. He then made his way closer to James and Rudy, folding his arms as he stood with a powerful posture behind the boss. Although, he didn't stand for long as the situation escalated within minutes.


Whilst James rushed forward to confront Richard, Nathan quickly set his attention on the closest target; who happened to be Patrick. "I would say that there's no hard feelings, but... " He shrugged, flashing a quick grin before he enters a complete state of focus. Most of Nathan's witty persona and light-heartened humour was put away when he got into a fight, especially one on the job. When it was personal, he was angry. Luckily, the marksman was calm and collected for this fight. He dashed forward almost instantly after letting his sentence trail off, planting one foot ahead of himself to send a right hook. The fist aimed to curve around and collide for Patrick's cheekbone, hoping it would be strong enough to leave the man open for another attack. It's been a while since Nathan had gotten into a real fight.

Interactions:
James Porter; Richard Duncan; Misty Gray Rudolph Meyers; Shireling Johaan; Enzyme Patrick; Pyroclast

 

[Misty Gray]

George Sanderson​

George smiled and gazed at Finn's face as the man told him how much his honesty meant to him. He couldn't believe anyone could be quite so kind and understanding, especially someone related to what he'd always been warned was an evil and dangerous family. He couldn't help but blush and look down to his own drink as Finn spoke of how he knew he hadn't had the support system since his release. "They act like it's easy to follow their rules. I was made to believe I was worthless and that I should accept any job I could get out here. Even if it was washing dishes all day whilst being treated like dirt for being an ex-con. Still, they act surprised when people re-offend and end up back in jail." George sighed. "I knew some lads in there who were convinced they had nothing waiting for them on the outside world and they'd resigned themselves to spending their lives in jail. Yet I was there telling them it would be easy to survive out here. I must have sounded like a real prick." He tapped his own forehead with his index finger. "Doesn't matter how much intelligence I've got going on up here, it doesn't mean a thing now I've got a record."

George chuckled at himself before taking a long drink. "Listen to me, putting a downer on our evening out. We're supposed to be having fun, right?" he enthusiastically asked. Hearing Finn valued their friendship brought a genuine, warm smile to George's face. "It means a lot to hear that, Finn, and you know I will always be there for you too. I spent ten years in prison and only when I spoke to you did I feel like I'd met someone I connected with. For all the friends I might have made, including Peter, there's something else about you that sets you apart from them. It's very rare to find someone I can talk to on an emotional and intellectual level, whilst also knowing I can have a joke with," he told him. George grinned and shook his head as he looked Finn in the eyes. "It helps that you're easy on the eyes. I mean... you don't have a gay twin brother in that big old family of yours, do ya?" he half-joked. "Hook me up!"


Bellz (Finn)

 

[Pyroclast]

Syd Porter

The growing tension finally snapped when Jackson twisted towards Eddie, bringing his fist up to his jaw in a powerful uppercut that sent him flying. The man landed heavily onto the poker table, momentarily stunned by the unexpected attack, and his cigar fell from between his fingers. In his drunken state, Eddie struggled to regain his balance and ended up rolling gracelessly onto the floor. Blood coated the inside of his mouth and he ran his tongue over his gums before spitting out a tooth. He slowly raised his head, the darkness in his eyes now fiercer than ever. "That was a mistake," he growled, blood spraying from his lips. Suddenly Eddie grabbed onto the edge of the table and launched his full weight at Jackson. The two men skidded across the ground and Eddie landed on top of him. Lost in a fit of rage, Eddie lay in a few heavy punches to Jackson's face before grasping tightly around the man's throat.

Davin, meanwhile, had started towards Syd and Peter and within seconds was locked in combat. Syd watched the man throw a hard punch to his uncle's eye and when the two stood up and Peter motioned for him to get out of there, Syd kept his feet firmly on the ground in protest. There was no way he was leaving on his own. If the worst came to the worst and they had to leave John behind, so be it, but he wasn't going to leave Jackson or Peter in this dodgy, unfamiliar place. Suddenly Eddie launched himself at Jackson and began laying into him, and Peter was pulled into a fight with another of the men at the table. The rest of the pub had cleared a space for the fight but, many of them being locals to this particular establishment, had mostly stayed to watch it play out. Before Syd could think of a way to help either of them, one of the men had noticed him standing alone and suddenly lunged at him, grabbing his left forearm and twisting it back sharply so that it gave a loud crack. The motion caused Syd to lose balance and his body twisted as he fell, landing face-first onto the filthy ground as he cried out in agony. The man pinned him down by his injured arm so that he couldn't escape and turned the young man over so he could throw a series of hard punches to Syd's face. Running out of options, Syd groped at the floor helplessly with his free hand for anything he could use to get the man off him. His fingers brushed against the handle of a partially-broken pint glass that had fallen underneath one of the tables, and, with a sudden rush of adrenaline and determination, he brought the glass harshly against his attacker's temple. Some glass got in the man's eye and he instinctively brought his hands up to his face, freeing Syd for a few seconds. With the man now successfully distracted, he was able to bring his right hand up to his assailant's head and thrust it against the corner of the table. Fearful that he would be out of ideas if this didn't work, Syd smashed the man's head against the table a few more times in desperation until eventually the man slumped to one side, unconscious and bleeding.

After taking a few moments to refocus his surroundings, Syd worked on freeing himself from the large man's weight. Blood had spread thickly across his tongue and he rolled over to spit it out - it wasn't the first time he had been beaten up like this, but he hadn't found himself in such a state for quite a while. With all the chaos around them, no one noticed him get to his feet and pull his gun from his holster. Resting his weight against the nearest table, he aimed the gun at the ceiling and fired it once. The recoil made his knees buckle but he managed to use the table to keep himself up. At least he had the room's attention now. Still breathless and dazed from the punches he had endured, Syd propped himself up on one elbow and pointed his gun in Eddie's direction, then over to Davin, then to the man who was fighting with Peter. "You're gonna give us John now," he demanded, weakly. The room appeared to be spinning, but at least the silence meant he didn't have to raise his voice. "And then we're gonna leave. If anyone has a problem with that, I've got six more rounds left in this thing that are all yours to take."

Enzyme Jackson, Johnathan
Bellz Peter, Davin


Patrick Duncan

Patrick had been enjoying his night at the Archers. He knew the locals well by now, and whenever he chose to drink upstairs he found himself easily drawn into their fun, drunken banter. So when the three men entered the pub and decided to clear the room, Patrick's mood dropped instantly. "Not him again," he grumbled to himself, instantly recognising Rudolph among them. Before he could confront the men, however, Richard took the words right out of his mouth and quickly denied any gambling activity that the mob had been so eager to catch them in. The boss was not having it, however, and it dawned on Patrick that these men weren't looking to settle things peacefully. They were looking for a fight. Patrick quietly watched the scene play out between James and Richard. At the mention of the robberies, however, Patrick looked away in silent panic. He had never been good at feigning innocence, but especially at times when he was being accused of something he was actually guilty of. The pained shout from his cousin caught his attention, however, and Patrick raised his head just in time to see one of the men approaching him with speed, the only man of the three that he didn't recognise at all.

Quickly slamming his pint glass down on the table, Patrick leapt to his feet, swaying only slightly. The alcohol in his system boosted his confidence, but unfortunately detracted from his ability to fight well. He scowled at Nathan's words, which sounded arrogant to his ears. Patrick hated to be patronised - mostly because, deep down, he knew he didn't have the wit to win in a verbal altercation. That being said, he wasn't in his best state for a hands-on fight either and, with his reflexes compromised, he was unable to dodge the swinging fist that collided strongly with his cheek bone. Patrick stumbled back, breaking his fall against the table with his hands. When his eyes met Nathan's once again, he shot him a fiery glare and reached out for the man's head. With a firm grip, he spun the man around so that they switched places and slammed his back hard against the table. Placing one hand firmly on Nathan's left shoulder, he swiftly brought his fist hard into his stomach.

Interactions
LateForDinner Nathan
Misty Gray James, Richard
Shireling Rudy
Enzyme Johaan

 

[Enzyme]

Jackson McCarthy​

The silence in the room was brief, before all hell broke loose. With Eddie sprawled across the table, Jackson believed he was down for the count. While the thought may have seemed foolish in retrospect, his attention was captivated instantaneously as Davin charged Peter. Peter had surprisingly dodged the punch and landed one with matching lethality. Davin quickly recovered and took Peter down, where the large man landed directly on John. The accountant had been conscious when the man landed on him, letting out an uncomfortable wheeze. The two soon got back on their feet, ready to brawl.

Jackson grabbed onto the back of Davin's shirt to pull him away from Peter. Before he could, he felt heavy arms wrap around his waist. He was momentarily suspended in the air before Eddie slammed him onto the hardwood floor. The landing had caused the grip of his handgun to ram into his stomach and wind him, where he let out a soft groan. Eddie didn't give Jackson any time to recover as he began throwing punches. The first two landed, bringing a familiar sting to Jackson's nose and cheek. His arms instinctively shot up to protect his face and block the advancing punches with his forearms. Eddie used his brute strength to break through Jackson's defenses and grasp his neck. Clasping his hands together, he slammed them down against the bend in Eddies arm, causing him to lose his grip around Jacksons throat. Jackson then shot his elbow directly into Eddie's face. The hit landed square on Eddie's nose, causing his nose to horizontally split across the bridge.

The hit had been more than enough to stun the large man, where Jackson took no time at all in grabbing Eddie's head and forcing his face into Jackson's chest. He rocked back and forth violently, until he was able to swing Eddie onto his back. Jackson quickly mounted him, using his hold on Eddie to smash his head against the floor. He then transitioned to full mount, where he used Eddie's shirt collar as leverage to beat him mercilessly.

Jackson only had time to land a handful of punches before one of Eddie's mates jumped in. The man grabbed at Jackson's blazer to pull him off. Jackson instead relaxed his arms, allowing the coat to slide off of him almost entirely. Before the sleeve had passed his hand, he gripped onto it and pulled the man into him. While it may have torn a hole in his jacket, it was enough to propel the man's gut into Jackson's knuckles, causing the man to fold over Jackson's forearm like an omlete. As he stood, he slammed his left fist against the man's cheek to knock him out cold. "Fuck off!" Jackson shouted as the hit connected.

Jackson stumbled to his feet, still recovering from the heavy hits he endured. Turning to Peter, he saw that the man had been encircled by the poker players. Jackson staggered over to the group and grabbed the first man he saw. Spinning him around, he socked the man in one fluid motion and sent him to floor.

Before he could continue to thin out the crowd, a loud gunshot erupted in the crowd. His first thought was that someone had shot Peter or Syd, or he, himself had been shot and the adrenaline had numbed the pain entirely. As he turned, however, he saw smoke tumbling out of Syd's handgun. Syd then waved the gun around, making sure all the men had stared down the barrel an equal amount of times. His demands were simple; let them leave.

Pyroclast (Syd/Eddie) Bellz (Peter/Davin)

 

[Fletchawk]

Ryan Donahue​

The Porters' estate garage had become Ryan's haven in Dublin, and while he was away in New York City, he'd missed having it to retreat to. Even though he came back a few weeks ago, James had him work the streets almost the moment he'd gotten off the boat, and hadn't spent more than a few minutes in the building at a time. So when he was told to tune up the cars, Ryan practically skipped as he made his way to the garage.

For most of the day, Ryan would drive the cars for a few miles and then bring them back to work on them. The majority of the cars only needed minor things done, so it wasn't intensive work, but it certainly kept him happily preoccupied. He was just finishing up replacing a set of tires and was making sure the necessary tools were in the spare tire well when he heard Sinead announce herself.

The sight of the smiling redhead caused him to pause for a moment as her image immediately derailed his single track frame of mind that he'd settled into that morning. While his thoughts were still piecing themselves back together, Ryan instinctively mirrored her with a smile of his own. Closing the trunk of the car, he strode towards Sinead in relaxed manner as he pulled a rag from the back pocket and made a distracted and ultimately futile attempt at wiping the black grime that tinted his skin.

"Well, look who it is!" Ryan said, followed by a quick chuckle, "And here I was, thinking you'd forgotten about me," his usual teasing tone evident. He knew that the rift that formed between them had been his doing, and while the three months away had given the time and space Ryan needed to come to his resolution, he wasn't going to force the topic. Especially so with Peter being released only days after he returned to Dublin. While he wanted to mend the rift between them, he also wanted to give Sinead and her husband their space after being so long apart.

"Considering it had been months since I've touched an engine, it's good to finally be back under the hood," he said in a jovial tone, showing his blackened hands as evidence before he realized that was something off about her tone. The more he listened for it, and the longer Ryan observed the woman he'd known since childhood, the quicker his smile faded from his face. "Sinead," he started as he tucked the useless rag back into his rear pocket, ignoring the statement of an obvious fact. Ryan paused before continuing, briefly doubting his observation, but then decided that there was no harm in asking, "Is something wrong?" the concern in his voice making it obvious that Ryan wasn't asking about whatever task she'd likely come to ask of him.


Misty Gray [Sinead]
Mentions: Bellz [Peter]

 

[LateForDinner]

Nathan Bennett
​

Nathan had quickly taken in how intoxicated the man was, knowing that the fight shouldn't be too difficult. Thus, a grin flashed across his face after his fist collided with its target. His eyes locked onto the glare coming from Patrick, causing Nathan to nod his head a little. It was almost a taunt, begging for him to open himself up for another hit. Although, Nathan underestimated the drunken Duncan as he gets turned against the table, foolishly allowing a punch to the stomach. It hurt, but Nathan could take it. Part of him was grateful he stupidly allowed such an attack, as it made him more focused and determined to end the fight quickly.

The marksman managed to insert his arm to take anymore blows, covering his stomach before he raised his right leg to kick the foe back. As he rolled his neck, he raised his fists to prepare another onslaught of attacks for his opponent. Nathan quickly glanced over to James, ensuring that he's handling his foe well. He didn't doubt him, it was simply out of care. Rudy, he didn't know well enough. But he took a second to check on him too.

Now it was time for round two.

Nathan glanced around at the various objects he could pick up; bottles, pool cues. But he didn't feel a need for them, it was dirty. The bodyguard preferred to be blunt and fair. He stepped forward to swat his left hand towards Patrick's arm, neglecting any incoming attack before his right fist moved in to collide with his nose. Nathan then grabbed his collar, stopping him from falling back before sending his knee to his core. Hoping it was enough to keep him down, he gathered the strength in his arms to throw him back. Part of him felt slightly guilty for acting so brutally against a drunken patron, but he reminded himself of the reasons and the guilt quickly diminished. Nathan stood there for a moment, ready to take on any more attacks in case the opponent wasn't defeated yet.




Interactions:
James Porter; Richard Duncan; Misty Gray Patrick; Pyroclast Rudolph Meyers; Shireling Johaan; Enzyme

 

[Pyroclast]

Patrick Duncan

Patrick would have kept laying into Nathan, but he would be a fool to think he had already won the fight. After only one successful punch, the man blocked his next attempts and quickly sent his fist directly into Patrick's nose, causing his head to snap back. He felt the bones break upon impact and instantly raised his still-clenched fist to the stream of blood that began to pour down his face. Before he could channel the pain into usable anger, Nathan took advantage of his lapse in focus and rammed his knee into Patrick's stomach, winding him in the process. Patrick staggered back with a groan and fell clumsily against a picture frame on the wall behind him, which subsequently shattered and fell to the ground. Breathing heavily, Patrick tore another frame from the wall and chucked it at Nathan's head.

"Get out my fucking pub, you bastard! " he shouted, blood from his nose trickling into his open mouth. He lunged at the man's head again with the intention of bringing it down hard onto the table, but he lost his balance and ended up pushing him to the ground instead, himself following suit. Grabbing ahold of Nathan's wrist, he dragged him out from beneath the table and slammed his other fist into his eye, spouting incomprehensible drunken gibberish in a fit of rage. By this point, Patrick couldn't remember what he was fighting the man for; all he knew was that he was trapped in combat and wanted to escape in one piece, whatever the cost. His opponent was cocky and Patrick couldn't bear to be taunted, not least by a man he didn't even know. Out of spite, he directed his next punch at the man's mouth in an attempt to beat his arrogant smirk to a bloody mess.

Interactions
LateForDinner Nathan
Misty Gray James, Richard
Shireling Rudolph
Enzyme Johaan

 

[LateForDinner]

Nathan Bennett
​

Nathan watched as the man tumbled back into the expensive frame, tilting his head as he turned to it in anger. "I think you're finished, pal-" The marksman's eyes shot wide as the frame became Patrick's choice of weapon, causing Nathan to quickly turn his shoulder. Thankfully, his opponent's state reduced the severity of the throw, meaning Nathan's shoulder didn't take too much damage. As he turned towards the foe, he was greeted by his stumbling form and let out a harsh grunt as he crashed into the table. The floor was stained with spilled liquids and dirty footprints, yet that wasn't Nathan's concern. The sudden crash onto the ground disorientated him and Patrick's rage had taken him by surprise. He never expected someone as feeble as him to contain so much anger.

Taking the first punch was understandable, Nathan had only just focused his mind after the collapsing to the ground. The second one only angered him, causing his lip to burst with blood. Nathan felt like it was due time to end the fight. He managed to slither his arm up to block anymore punches, putting his strength into holding off the staggering body above him. He then clenched his free hand, tightening the fist before sending it into Patrick's jaw. This hit was fuelled by anger as well as focus, hoping it would turn the battle back into his favour.

Typically, Nathan left a little mercy in his hits and waited after a single hit. But his opponent's angered state has lost all rights for mercy. Nathan sent another punch to his jaw, his knuckles crunching against the bone. He lifted his knee to pry itself between the two battered bodies, giving Nathan the chance to throw him off. The bodyguard brings himself onto his feet, taking a quick moment to wipe the blood trickling from his lips. "You're an angry little drunk guy, aren't you?"

Nathan brought himself closer to Patrick, sending a firm boot into his chest. He wasn't hesitating or letting any chances slip this time. He leaned down to tightly grab a fistful of his hair and yank it back, leaving his face open for a perfect hit. The marksman raised his fist into the air, taking a deep breath as he hoped that this will end the fight. He fired his fist forward, crashing into Patrick's face with immense force. Then again. Then once more.

Nathan released his hair before shoving him back to the ground. "Now you're done." His words still carried a light-heartened tone, despite being accompanied by breathless speaking. Nathan moved back onto his feet and took another moment to recover from his surprisingly tiring encounter. His eyes glossed over the battered and bleeding features of the man, wondering how he got into this life. He didn't seem that intimidating, that's for sure. Part of Nathan still felt guilty, but it wasn't for long.

Interactions:
James Porter; Richard Duncan; Misty Gray Patrick Duncan; Pyroclast Rudolph Meyers; Shireling Johaan Duncan; Enzyme

 

[Pyroclast]

Patrick Duncan

Patrick kept on swinging wildly at the man's face even when he was pushed out of reach. The sudden blow to his jaw was strong enough to hold off any more of his attempts to strike the man, and the second one caused a horrible crunching sound. Patrick scrunched his eyes in pain and let out a moan as he fell to the ground. When he opened his eyes, Nathan was standing over him. His patronising words rattled him, but when he tried to shout back, all that came out was an incoherent wail. His jaw wouldn't close; at first Patrick thought the man had knocked his teeth out, but when he brought a bloody hand to his mouth to inspect the injury, his realised that the gap he felt was in fact caused by his jaw hanging down at an unnatural angle. As he glared furiously up at Nathan, Patrick's eyes stung with tears of pain and frustration.

Unaware of how drunk he was, he couldn't understand how he was going down so easily. It didn't seem fair for him to lose when he had put so much effort into harming the man. But the fact was, that despite his ardent intention to take his opponent down, Patrick was entirely out of his depth fighting with a trained marksman. The hard kick to his chest drew a sharp, pained breath from the defeated man and when Nathan yanked his hair back, Patrick reached up to hold onto his arms, trying to pull himself up to relieve the pain. This only left his broken jaw exposed, however, and when he suffered three more severe blows to the face, he screamed out in excruciating pain. Once shoved to the floor, he could do nothing to get himself back up. Nathan's words to him were the final touch to his already-damaged pride and now Patrick lay defeated, an ugly mixture of tears and blood streaming down his face. He wanted to get to his feet, but he was rapidly losing consciousness, and knew that if he tried to continue the fight in this state he would be a long way off from winning. With his nose and jaw both already badly broken, he was afraid of what might happen to him if he gave the man a chance to do further damage. Without the strength to even look up to Nathan one last time, Patrick finally succumbed to the inviting darkness.

Interactions
LateForDinner Nathan
Misty Gray James, Richard
Shireling Rudolph
Enzyme Johaan

 

[Misty Gray]

James Porter and Richard Duncan
​

Richard shifted a concerned glance to his occupied brother and cousin, before looking back to James. "You've got the wrong guys," he assured the mob boss. As James was about to respond, Richard managed to regain some control. He made a failed attempt at headbutting James, but it was enough to buy him a little space as the other man loosened his grip on him and dodged the attack. Richard kicked his leg out, his foot slamming into James' thigh, just above the knee, and he then swung his arm at the mob boss to inflict a blow to the side of his face. Although it was enough to draw some blood on the inside of James' lip, it wasn't enough to cause James to completely lose his focus.

James had stumbled back a little, but easily regained his footing. Although Richard was physically fit and strong, most of his moves were predictable and the effects of the blows were relatively easy to minimise. James lunged forward and sent a powerful right hook into the side of Richard's face, slamming his knuckles against the landlord's nose and forcing blood to instantly pour out of his left nostril. The blow was rapidly followed by a punch to the man's gut from James' left fist. As Richard doubled over, James' right hand delivered a further punch to the man's left cheekbone. Porter then pushed Richard backwards, causing the man to lose his footing and stumble over the the chairs behind him. He attempted to grab the backrest of one chair to break his fall, but only succeeded in dragging the chair down with him, letting out a pained groan in the process. After casually kicking the chair aside, James watched on as the landlord struggled up onto his hands and knees. Richard reached out to grab the handgun he'd earlier dropped. As soon as the man's fingers rested on the firearm, James stepped forward to stand on the back of his hand, practically crushing Richard's bones between his shoe and the gun he'd been clinging to. James bent down and prised the gun from Richard before finally lifting his foot off the pained man's hand.

Before Richard could react, James kicked the man in the side of the ribs, using the weight of his foot to force him to fall onto his back. James then crouched down, putting the weight of his knee on Richard's rib-cage. He held the firearm in his right hand and pressed the muzzle of the gun into the man's forehead, on the same spot the pool ball had earlier hit. The action drew out a pained groan from Richard, but James spoke over it. "I know you're the ones who were behind the robberies."

"You're wrong, mate. It's nothing to do with us!" Richard pleaded, the pain throughout his body making his tone sound even more desperate..

"Mate?!" James snorted. "There was a time I thought I could trust you and you kept that wanker [Vernon] under control. But all you've done is lie to me and break our agreement. If you admit to the robberies now, I won't put a bullet in your skull. Do. You. Understand?" James asked, his voice forceful yet still eerily calm. He was furious will the Duncans and were he not a man of his word, they would be dead by now. Until Richard owned up, he was willing to let them believe death was still on the cards. James briefly looked in the direction of the others, noticing the state Patrick was in following Nathan's 'intervention'. He looked back to Richard and shrugged his shoulders as though his point was being proven. "At least think of your family..."

LateForDinner (Nathan) Shireling (Rudolph) Enzyme (Johaan) Pyroclast (Patrick)

 

[mpower]

Det. Kennedy Sullivan

The past weeks had been exhausting. Investigations regarding the Armstrong family were still going, but their progress was rather dull. On the same day, Armstrong Jr. was found dead in the apartment of Adam Morgan, which led to more issues for Kennedy and his fellow Detectives. Drug influence was strong during these weeks, Ken had to stay up long nights, so a bit from his 'golden needle' was needed for him to stay effective and woke. He hadn't seen his family much, though they were most likely save from accusations by now. Now it had been important for the Gardai to squeeze their way to the IWU. There was a large list of suspects, but dibs were on Jared's own men as James had predicted. Evidence or witnesses were needed and newspapers and flyers tried to emphasise on that by stating: 'Anyone willing to provide information regarding the murder of the Armstrong family and/or Alexander Armstrong will be rewarded highly'. For now without any results except the usual liars, desperate souls in need of money.

Kennedy was interrupted by Detective Kelly mid boxing in his own office, a boxing sack he had set up in a corner to get a relief of stress during such frustrating and stagnating work they currently had to suffer from. Even though they had Carter Dresden for something rather obsolete and uncertain in that interrogation room, he might be a way to get to their hitmen, or might even be one of them. Now he was standing next to Kelly, arms crossed as he inspected the man through the mirror. He could only nod and growl in anger, clearly provoked by the calmness and slyness Carter showed them without even having talked with them. "Right, I am going in, try to not interrupt me while I am interrogating him, I might try to pull some strings, don't worry though, I won't harm him." Ken nodded to his colleague and any other officers nearby, winking once as he exited the room.

With that he took the files from Kelly, together with a dozen of blank paper sheets he shuffled into the files, making their folder of Dresden appear bigger than it was. As he opened the door, his chest shoved forward slightly, his attempt to establish dominance. The hat he wore today was well chosen, it covered his large and dark eye bags, which he had thanks to sleep deprivation, with a large shadow, enhanced by the perfectly fitted light. A few steps were only taken by him to head over to the table. If Kelly followed him or not wasn't necessarily important for him. Ken lowered down on his chair and slammed the folder on the table, him having kept eye contact if responded or at least stared at Carter during the whole procedure.

In total silence from his side, his hand moved up to the table, pressing one button of the recorder which responded with a soft *Click*

"Interrogation file five-six-seven. Interrogating officer: Detective Kennedy /Sullivan/-.", as he mentioned his surname, Kennedy squeezed his eyes slightly as he awaited the reaction of Dresden, he had made sure to emphasise strong enough for him to clearly notice his allegiance in this case.-", interrogating suspect 'Carter Dresden' in connection to case file ten-beta-five-five-zero." Now it was time for him to take a break and wait a few seconds, inspecting the body language and reaction of his opponent as Ken's palms were placed against each other, his fingertips pointed at Dresden. Overall his own body language was calm, yet he did not appear to be lacking any kind of attention, his eyes being active and lightened up.

"Right, Carter Dresden. We've got quite a bit chunk written here about you." He mumbled as his fingers scrolled through the pages. "Many light felonies. A few medium ones, surprisingly nothing above that. Seems odd for a person of your type. BUT, maybe that can change, huh? " Kennedy asked, slamming the folder shut while he waited for Dresden to respond.

"Perhaps we shall start with Friday 27th November 1959? " His eyebrows quirked up as he threw that date into the room, a tilt of the head signalising his close attention to the following words and facial expressions.


Enzyme

 

[Enzyme]

Carter Dresden​

The sound of the heavy door opening did little to startle Carter. His slouched position and dormant behavior made him seem comatose. The soft, subtle rhythm of his fingers bouncing on the table hadn't altered as the detective made his way down to him. As Kennedy slammed the files down, clouds of dust blew off the edges of the table like small haboobs. Carter was seemingly unfazed by Kennedy's attempt to intimidate him, or at least it had appeared that way.

Kennedy's finger traced to the recorder between Carter's arms. The small clicking sound was followed by the continuous white noise of the tapes running. His deep voice broke the collective silence the small room had established. Without any furniture to absorb the sound, his voice bounced off the walls, accompanied by a small echo. The detective read out his credentials, putting emphasis on his last name. Those words managed to get a reaction out of Carter, his head slowly raising and allowing the light to hit his face for the first time.

The surname was immediately familiar and caused the cogs, which had been resting idle for over an hour, to begin to turn in Carters head. Porter. While Sullivan wasn't an outlandish last name, the way Kennedy delivered it made it clear he was directly related to the Porters.

Kennedy opened up the manilla envelope, causing the remainder of the dust on the table to blow away. Carter's eyes moved back down to the table, supposedly uninterested. It wasn't the first time someone had shoved Carter's offenses in his face, nor was it the first time a detective had been the one to do it. Blah blah blah. Kennedy sounded disappointed at the lack of serious offenses on his rap sheet, but Carter found it as an achievement.

The detective shifted his focus towards a particular date. Carter didn't hide his puzzled expression, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. "Detective, I can hardly remember what I ate for dinner last night. You're gonna' have to refresh my memory."

mpower (Kennedy)

 

[Bellz]

Finn Sullivan​

Finn listened closely as George spoke, hanging on to every word the man said and nodding his head along to show that he was actively listening. It hurt to see such a good man struggle like he was. It just didn't make sense, how the system worked. George would never be able to blend back into normal society if they kept his crimes pinned above his head like a warning. George's optimism in prison was not surprising and Finn admired his strength for keeping his head up. Surely it was the only way to survive in such an awful place. A man who was willing to accept the truth in the end is definitely a strong one. Finn wished things could be different for George, that he could find a stable job that wouldn't judge him or his past...

George went on to speak about Finn in a way that was making his cheeks pink and a small bashful smile form on his lips. "Oh stop, look what you are doing to me!" He said as he tried to duck his face out of George's view, not wanting the man to see how red he was. He was relieved when the shower of compliments had stopped, as much as he enjoyed them, he was afraid he was going to explode with embarrassment. Just when he thought he was in the clear, the man went on to say that he was easy on the eyes. Finn gripped his mug tightly and tensed for a moment, Was he...? The man couldn't finish the thought, still listening as George went on to joke about hooking him up with one of Finn's relatives. Finn still held his mug tightly as he struggled for an answer at first. There was a smile still on his face but if one looked close enough, they could see the worry in his eyes, "Twin brother, eh? I mean..." He spoke slowly as he tried to distract himself from ruining a friendship with George. He was sure he was reading too far into it. "Conor. Closest thing I have to a brother. Not sure about the gay part though, he always sent mixed signals."
with : George Misty Gray

Peter Callahan​

Peter was trapped now as a few of the giant thugs seemed to use enough of their brain cells to form a circle around him. Peter stayed in the corner, looking for a way out, possibly between the idiots if he ran quick enough. Luckily, Jackson came to save the day grabbing one of the biggest guys in the group. The other two turned in surprise and that's when Peter lurched forward to tackle the man closest to his right. The man hadn't seen him coming as he had been too focused on Jackson, so the weight of Peter pushing him caused him to fall over quickly, crashing into a punch of chairs. Both the men went toppling to the ground and Peter tried to get up in order to subdue his attacker. Smaller than the thug, Peter was able to get onto his feet a lot quicker and he didn't waste anytime laying a few kicks to the man's side. The sound of a gun went off, causing a ringing in his ears. His head snapped up, wondering who pulled a gun out at a fist fight. To his surprise, Syd had shot the gun. Bits of ceiling tile were still falling down around him as he so boldly aimed his weapons at the men around him, even from his position.

Peter used the distraction to lay another kick into the man below him before pulling out his own gun and exposing it to the others. Walking away from the man who seemed to be unconscious now, he backed up towards Syd until he was side by side with him, he turned around to face the others behind his nephew. "You heard the man. Back the fuck off." Peter's voice was thick and the gun he held with one had was shaking terribly. Hyped up with adrenaline and anger, he was ready to take on anyone else who dared come forward, but he wasn't going to waste his energy with fist fighting any longer. Peter turned his head briefly to look at Jackson for direction. They needed to get out of here quick.

The blonde man then turned his head in the opposite direction to look at John who was still on the floor. Peter left his position at Syd's side and walked over to the useless accountant, "You fucking awake? Bloody piece of shit," Peter nudged his bloodstained boot against the man shoulder, poking him as if he was some sort of road kill. When he still didn't move or answer, Peter sighed. He wasn't going to waste anymore time. Aiming his gun at John's head, Peter looked to Jackson for direction again. "We could just end his miserable existence right here, for all the trouble he caused."
with: Jackson Enzyme ; Syd Pyroclast

 

[Misty Gray]

Sinead Callahan​

Ryan returning her smile was the first reassurance for Sinead that she hadn't made the wrong decision to approach her childhood friend. After over three months of them not speaking with each other, she'd been worried they never would again - not properly. Ryan closed the trunk of the car and walked towards her, leading the redhead to take a few steps away from the doorway and commit herself to being inside the garage. She glanced down at his dirty hands as he attempted to clean them with a simple rag. Her attention was drawn away from the sight when the man spoke back to her and chuckled. It was good to see him laughing and appearing casual in her presence, especially considering the way they had left things when they were last together.

"Me? Um, excuse me, Mister. You're the one who disappeared," Sinead playfully berated him in return, as she often did with those she knew well. She briefly looked away as she picked up a silver bolt from the nearby work surface then absentmindedly began turning it around between her thumb and index finger. She still felt a little nervous and awkward, but things with Peter were causing her further anxiety. She looked back to Ryan and observed him as he mentioned how he was glad to be working on the cars again. His enthusiasm for his work brought a faint smile to her face, glad to see he appeared happy in his job. She turned her nose up in an intentionally exaggerated fashion as he showed her his filthy hands. "It'll take more than a scratty rag to clean those hands, Ryan!" she assured him.

Despite the front she was putting on and her attempts to act the way she normally did, Ryan seemed to easily recognise there was something going on beneath her facade. When he asked her if something was wrong, she bit her bottom lip and looked down to the bolt in her hand. "Well, Conor..." she began, but stopped herself. She knew that wasn't what her friend was asking her about and she knew she wasn't much good at hiding things. Her eyes and face seemed to always give her away. She tightened her fist around the bolt before lifting her head to look up to Ryan. She very slightly, but noticeably, shook her head. "No, it's... I'm sorry," she began, apologising for making him concerned enough to ask. "I thought everything would be okay." Still squeezing the bolt in her hand, she folded her arms around her waist and sighed.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Peter had to spend months in that awful place and it's changed him. And I feel like I'm the only person who didn't expect it," she admitted. She thought back to her mother who had made a point of telling her she had nothing to complain about as she wasn't the one who went to prison and that she should be supporting Peter. Despite what had transpired between her and Ryan months ago, Sinead still felt like she could tell him what was on her mind. They'd been friends since they were children and she knew he would be considerate with her thoughts, even if he had to speak out to confirm she was in the wrong on this. "I feel like a terrible person for even thinking about myself in all of this. I mean, I'm not the one who was locked up and separated from my family and friends for six months, but this still hurts me. Peter's home and I still feel alone... Like he's not actually here." Her voice had faltered on her last few words, forcing her to pause and take a deep breath to compose herself. "How do I... What am I supposed to do?" she asked him. It wasn't so much a question asked out of desperation, but more one to simply ask for her friend's advice. She knew Ryan's father had been in prison when he was younger and wondered how he coped. How did his mother manage it?

Fletchawk (Ryan)

 

[Pyroclast]

Syd Porter

When Jackson caught the pressure point in Eddie's elbows they collapsed inwards, instantly losing him his grip on the man's throat. Before he could work out his next move, Jackson's elbow flew up into his face and connected with the bridge of his nose, where it split and began to bleed profusely. He let out a grunt of pain, but his attacker gave him no time to address it; he was quickly overturned, his head colliding with great force against the hard floor before suffering several harsh blows to the face. When the man finally let him drop, Eddie simply stayed down, fighting to stay awake while his head pounded and throbbed in pain. The sound of gunfire quickly startled him awake, however, and he slowly pushed himself up just far enough to see what was happening, propping himself against a nearby table leg.

For a moment, the whole room had their eyes locked on Syd as he addressed the thugs. The pain in his arm was excruciating and demanding of attention, but Syd held it closely against his side and did his best to ignore it. He carefully pushed himself away from the table so that he could hold the gun out properly, suddenly aware that they might not take his threats seriously if he looked like he couldn't support his own weight. There was no immediate response, but then, after a second, Peter stepped towards him through the dust and rubble that had fallen from the ceiling, bringing out his own gun. While Syd was grateful for his support, he couldn't help but notice the violent shaking of his uncle's hand and wondered if the man was alright. For now, though, they would have to push on regardless.

"Move," he ordered, gesturing to the thugs with his gun as Peter stepped back towards the poker table. He didn't want anyone to make any sudden advances - although he had his gun ready, he hoped that he wouldn't have to use it. Still, when some of the men refused to give them space, Syd raised his gun to their eye level and they quickly backed off. Keeping a safe distance behind his uncle so as to have the man's back, he looked down to the useless, drunken mess of a man that was their accountant.

When Peter suggested they end the man's life once and for all, Syd shook his head. "No," he said quietly. "That's not what we came here to do." While he respected his uncle's authority most of the time, his father's orders would always come first. John still had unfinished business that needed addressing if they were to sort out the debts that he owed to the mob. Looking down at the man, Syd could see that he was just about conscious, but not nearly enough to support himself. He would be difficult to carry out to the car park though, especially with Syd's left arm being undoubtedly broken. Taking a deep breath, Syd spun round to face the crowd of on-lookers and raised his gun at them. "Everyone out of the way, now! " he yelled. When the drunken crowd didn't immediately clear the exit, he fired the gun once more at the ceiling above them. "I said, move! "

The searing pain in his arm was starting to stress him out and now he just wanted to get the job done. In and out, Jackson had said. With his gun now pointed at Eddie, he looked to Jackson. "Can you grab him, so we can get out of here?" It was both a request and a genuine question, unsure of how injured the man was after the brawl. "Peter? I'll have your backs. Go, take him outside." He stepped away from the scene so that he didn't have his back to anyone who might attempt to restart the brawl and, taking a few deep breaths to help quash the nagging pain, watched the two men lift John to his feet. Once they had begun to drag him away, Syd stepped behind them and kept his gun pointed at the few thugs that remained conscious while he followed them to the exit of the pub.

Eddie had remained silent, knowing full well he no longer had the physical strength to stop all three armed men from taking John away. After the doors swung shut behind them, he slowly turned to his remaining cohorts with a wicked look in his eye.

Interactions
Enzyme Jackson, John
Bellz Peter

 

[Enzyme]

Jackson McCarthy​

The whole pub went completely silent. The debris from the ceiling had caused dust to overlay the lights, small pieces of ceiling trickling down to the ground. Jackson could see the terror in Syd's eyes. He slightly raised his hands to ease the kid.

Peter used the distraction to kick another man while he was down, before making his way to Syd. Peter then pulled his gun out as well and Jackson couldn't help but cringe. The two of them had clearly only been to Dublin pubs and had never been to Drogheda before. There was difference in how people armed themselves.

With how the fight was going, it had been entirely fair. The action of pulling their firearms escalated it to a situation that Jackson didn't want to be in. The room was dead quiet, but their hands hadn't been raised. Instead, they laid close to their pockets or vests. Jackson noticed that this applied to everyone in the pub, including the bartender who suspiciously had his hands tucked under the top shelf of the bar.

Jackson made his way over to the two, being very conscious of his movements. As Peter snapped his gun up to Johns head, he insisted that he finished the accountant off where he laid. While he agreed the John had become an obnoxious obstacle at the moment, the way Peter was twitching with the gun in his hand made him nervous. Jackson's hand reached out and grabbed the slide of Peter's gun softly. "Relax," Jackson muttered. Meanwhile, John had been awake, yet not sure what was going on. He talked quietly under his breath about how he wanted to finish his poker game.

Jackson nodded his head to Syd's request, grabbing onto John. With Peter's help, they lifted the man up. The poker players in the room had subtly begun to encircle the trio as they made their way to the exit, causing Syd to yell at them to move once more. "Easy, kid, easy," Jackson whispered to Syd.

Once they made it out the doors, Jackson's tempo immediately changed. "Quick!" He held on tightly to John and began sprinting to his Cresta. Before they reached the doors two gunshots erupted from behind them. Jackson instinctively crouched down and pulled the handgun from his waistband. Two more shots rang out, leading him to slide over the hood of his car on his back. He landed roughly on the asphalt, but quickly shot up behind his car. Aiming down at the doors of the pub, he let out two gunshots. "Get the fuck in the car!"

His returning fire didn't deter the men from continuing to shoot at them. Two bullets smacked his back window, blowing two clean holes through the glass and ripping out the other window. As low as he possibly could, he climbed into the front and started the car. Rolling down the passenger window slightly, he aimlessly fired back at the men. Jackson then stepped on the gas pedal, propelling the car out of the lot.

Despite his relief, they weren't home free yet. Two of the cars in the lot followed after them, firing at them as they chased them down the road. "Son of a bitch," Jackson muttered through his teeth.

Bellz (Peter) Pyroclast (Syd)

 

[Shireling]

Rudy Meyers
​

Rudy knew the fight was coming before James had swung the first punch, and as his boss's first blow connected on Richard, Rudolph took the wooden truncheon he had been concealing in his coat by the leather strap, swung it tight about his right hand, and closed the distance with Johann, the guy who he thought James had fingered as the masked robber and had been told to make things tough on.

Like Nathan and Patrick, once the fighting began Rudolph took some blows from his opponent but he benefited from a shorter stature and stouter frame that made him a stone wall in a fistfight and a weapon. Once he had gotten Johann to the ground, he laid into him mercilessly with the small wooden club. He only paused when he noticed James suddenly with a gun in his hand. He wiped a bit of spit and blood away from his own mouth from a deep cut left by a ring on his opponent's hand, and cleaned the same mixture of materials off of his truncheon on Johann's suit.

Rudolph had fallen silent, part of him wishing James would just put a bullet in the pub owner and spare him the trouble of a fourth visit. He glanced at Nathan, having defeated his match in combat, and gave him a small nod of respect. Of the two of them, Nathan had definitely made it look easier.

LateForDinner Misty Gray Enzyme Pyroclast

 

[mpower]

Det. Kennedy Sullivan​

Kennedy knew it might be risky to call out his full name in front of such a shady figure, but he almost begged for enemies in his life. Enemies of him were usually enemies of the family and the Gardai, and usually a bunch of assholes or criminals, and not the type the Porters were. And to be honest, Kennedy just loved the tickle to know that there's someone outside there, hating him. After all, he thought that it was crucial for this interrogation, it created a certain sharpness between them, and Sullivan almost thought he saw a small glimpse in the man's eyes, a sign of interest or attention.
Certainly, this was not just a normal member of the IWU.

From the way, Dresden acted, even without talking much, Kennedy knew he wasn't new to interrogations at all, especially to interrogations with leads into the right direction. As he had finally finished and received the small answer of Carter, Kennedy opened the case file again. "It was the day where our Commissioner got shot during a parade. A shootout and an explosion occurred, and two Detectives caught you with a gun. Same gun with the same caliber which was used nearby on a parking lot. Does that ring a bell? It should, either we've definitely got a massive problem here." He lowered his head as he glanced with his eyes at the man on the opposite of the table, once more trying to look out for any hidden signs. Be it a quirk in the eyes or a shift of his body weight to the other side of the chair. He had earned his knowledge and sharp eye over years of service in this department, yet people of Dresden's kind had the chance to deceive people of his kind.

A deep breath later, his seemingly calm explanation continued: "We got an eyewitness now, an innocent bystander with migration background, did not wish to get involved in fear of her losing her job, but now things have changed and the Commissioner is Mayor and that gave her faith to do something /right/. She claims she saw you using your gun against a man of the Porters. That would exceed your goals to stay away from the big stuff certainly." Awaiting Carter's answer on that simple lie, he leaned back and crossed his arms in front of his chest, causing the shadows to block off even more of his face. He did not roll up his sleeves due to possible detection of his heroin usage recently, which made him feel uncomfortably warm today. An interesting aspect, he thought, was the mentioning of the election, it connected to his real intentions in this conversation, his path to the Armstrong family. Usually, Kennedy kept things more old-fashioned, small questions packed together in different topics to get to the main 'cake', but today he needed to stay off the grid of any tactics or methods, hopefully catching this man off guard in their small amount of time. Even if he couldn't squeeze any intel out of Carter, he could at least get enough reasons for observation of this man, a hopefully successful method to get a step nearer to Mr Morgan and whoever was responsible for the extinction of the Armstrongs.

After a while, he simply added: "What is your stance on the Porters?" Hoping to evoke another emotional sign out of this seemingly blunt question.

Enzyme