Chapter 3- War
Mark Kirkland really wasn't as bad as everyone- 'everyone' mainly referring to overprotective big brothers of girls he knew- said that he was. He was a bit overly fond of women, perhaps, but he had never actually done anything to them, so there was no reason to treat him like he was some sort of horrible pervert.
None of this was any comfort, however, when Eric O'Malley came walking up to him with fire in his eyes and a vein pulsing dangerously in his temple.
"Kirkland!" Eric roared, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.
Mark eyed him warily. O'Malley was the same age as him, with a characteristically thin O'Malley frame that belied his strength and skill as a boxer.
"Aye…?" Mark asked cautiously.
Without a word, Eric lashed out with his infamous right hook, audibly breaking the bone in Mark's nose and cracking the one in his left cheek. Mark went down like a sack of flour, unprepared to be struck with such force.
The Irishman bent over his victim and said with deadly calm, "Stay. The fuck. Away from. Me sister."
"Which one…? You've got three," Mark pointed out reasonably, trying to ignore the pain radiating out from his broken nose. As annoyed as he was, it probably wasn't a good idea to antagonize Eric further.
Eric, however, was not in a reasonable mood. "Clár, the one ye've been harassin' ferthree fuckin' months!If Oi see ye near her again, or'f Oi git word ye've been within 20 feet'f her, ye'll be lucky'f it's yer goddamn nose Oi break next! Y'understand whit Oi'm sayin'?"
"Would it do me any good to point out that I've never actually touched your sister, or that she's 16 and can take care of herself…?" Mark asked through the pain in his face, which was rapidly spreading.
"No. Keep yer goddamn distance, got't?" With that, Eric turned on his heel and walked away, muttering to himself and leaving Mark on the ground,
o.o.o.o
The press conference was packed, and through the microphone that had been planted on a reporter in their employ, Niall O'Malley could hear the buzz of conversation between various TV, newspaper, and radio men.
"Remind me again," Harrison Powell said, from his seat opposite Niall, "why we have to listen to this now?"
"'Cause Oi wanna hear whit Gilman says," Seán O'Malley said simply. For his brothers, that was the end of the matter. Seán was the head of the family, despite being the youngest. He had been handpicked and trained by their Uncle Robert to act as his successor, both within the Organization and without. As such, his word was law.
Arthur Kirkland, however, did not feel the same family loyalty. In addition, he was was still more than a bit resentful about the way he had been, as he saw it, forced into the Organization. True, this viewpoint was accurate, but that was beside the point.
"We could just listen to this on the news report when it comes out," he said.
"Oi prefer ter do m'own editin'," Seán said, clearly indicating that the discussion was over. Arthur had enough sense not to set off the Council Chairman's legendary temper, especially not after the Great Pizzeria Incident of 2008.
"Roight, Gilman's talkin', so shut yer faces," Niall said.
"Ladies and gentleman," the police commissioner said, his voice crackling through the listening device that rested on the middle of the Council table, "as you know, I've called you here today to unveil my new strategy to combat the rampant crime wave in our city. But before I do, there's something I'd like to share."
"He's gonna-"
"Shut up!" Seán hissed.
"Less than 72 hours ago, I was approached by two men, one of whom aimed a pistol at my chestand took me to a bar in the Northeast Corner, where I was told by a man who called himself Joe McDonnell that I was to look the other way whilstgangs of criminals went about their routines of undermining our society. In addition, I was told that if I did not comply, my life, as well as the lives of my officers, my wife, and our son, would be threatened."
"Whit a sanctimonious little fuck he is," Óisín O'Malley said in irritation. "Ye'd think we'd actually shot his brat, the way he's carryin' on."
"We don' kill kids," Seán said sharply. "Threats're one thin', bit we'll ne'er pull a trigger on a choild."
"But I have no intention of caving into the demands of criminals, nor of letting their networks operate freely."
"Ye'd prefer chaos in tha underworld?" Duncan MacLeod asked the radio. "Óisín's right, warra sanctimonious wee fucker."
"Shut up," Seán ordered.
"As such, I am declaring total war against the city's criminal organizations. Officers will-"
Seán turned off the radio. "Tha's all, gentlemen. We are at war." He rose. "Powell, brief the troops. Kirkland, Aodh, Óisín, Oi need ter see ye in m'office." He strode from the Council room, the Organization members outside the room parting before him.
o.o.o.o
"Whit is't, Seán?" Aodh O'Malley, eldest of the six brothers, asked.
"Gilman's son, whit's his name?"
"Um… Joseph, I believe…"
"Age?"
"17."
"He's havin' some trouble a' school, isn' he, bein' a policeman's son?"
"Aye… Where're ye goin' wi' this, Seán?" Aodh asked.
Seán smiled, but that only made him look like a viper showing its fangs. "The three o' ye have 17-year-old children, don' ye?"
"Aye. Oi have Peadar, Óisín has Fionn, an' Arthur has Anne."
"Well, Oi think't may be best if the young Gilman had a few friends, don' ye, brother?" He smiled more widely. "See to't."
Mark Kirkland (Sunderland) belongs to Greygreenwolf.