AN: Still I own none of C&C, nor do I own Smithicks, or any other brand name things you may see here…
I have fixed a problem with the places here…
----
Belfast, Northern Ireland, 1000 hours
Emmett's Pub, PIRA HQ
Brendan left close to fifty dollars on the counter for the bartender. He had to. The amount of Smithicks he had drunk should have killed him on the stool that he sat on.
Patrick O'Donnell looked at the ticket. "Oh shit…" he said under his breath as he watched his commanding officer walk out onto the street. He knew he had no choice but to go to Iraq. The police where compromised. If he went to them or fled the country the PIRA would surely kill him.
He quickly left the small, putrid pub and headed for his car. The old '93 Aston Martin was in surprisingly better shape than its appearance would lead one to believe. Brendan quickly got in and turned the key in the ignition. The engine started extremely quickly. He drove off down the street and onto the highway. He sped along it towards Dublin and his flight.
Just Outside of Baghdad, Iraq, 300 Hours
Forward Base: Gamma
Lei was tired. The noise of the War factories kept waking him up. It was a good thing though he didn't know it yet. He cursed the noises as he tried once again to fall asleep.
Just Outside of Baghdad, Iraq, 300 Hours
Just south of Forward Base: Gamma
Col. Burton was on the move. His target was in his sites. He sprinted towards the base, his knife at the ready. Satellite passes had shown that the enemy had failed to build patriots and stinger sites.
He could see that there were too many hostiles to take on alone. He was doing his recon. He slipped past the patrols and guard towers without any trouble. He continued towards what looked like the command post of the base. Once inside he quietly searched the rooms. There was a clicking noise behind him.
"So Colonel, we meet," Lei said as he moved in on the American, gun drawn and aimed at his head, "Drop your knife or your head will not make as much of a trophy as I had hoped." Burton did as he was told and dropped his weapon. "The machine gun and pistol too," Lei commanded. Once again Burton complied.
"Kell! Get out here!" The mercenary yelled. Groaning Kell responded as he walked out into the hall, "What is- Holy shit!" "Kell, escort this man to the detention center and make sure the guards keep their eyes on him the whole time, I don't want him to escape."
Baghdad, Iraq, 800 Hours
Baghdad International Airport
O'Donnell yawned as he stepped off the plane. "Goddamn jet lag," he muttered to himself. He grabbed his bags and went to the car rental. "What would you like?" the attendant asked. "I need some thing cheap," Patrick replied. The attendant looked at his computer, "We have a 1989 Ford available for five hundred a day, would you like insurance?" "Definitely," the Irishman responded.
A few minutes later he was on his way down a road towards the newly GLA base. The noise registered before he saw it. An RPG was hurtling towards his car. He swerved to try and avoid it but the back was caught in the explosion. The car somersaulted in the air and landed on its roof.
Just Outside of Baghdad, Iraq, 300 Hours
Forward Base: Gamma
"Hello," a voice said to Patrick as he came back into the world of consciousness. "According to your driver's license you are Patrick O'Donnell of Belfast correct?" the voice asked him. He grunted in reply. "I'll take that as a yes. Now tell me Patrick, what is an Irishman doing in here Iraq?" Silence. "I'll let you rest and gather your thoughts for a while. I'll be back."
----
AN: Longer at least…
