Right, I'd like to thank Greygreenwolf, not only for being my editor, but also for putting up with my incessant need to bounce ideas off of her. Special shoutout to you, Green. Also, because of her, this chapter is pre-edited.

Chapter 4- Bonnie and Collins

Anne Kirkland did not enjoy working with Dainial O'Malley. The Irishman was demanding, arrogant, and notoriously short-tempered. Frankly, Anne didn't see any reason why she was the one who had to deal with him.

"How many AR-15s're there?" O'Malley asked from where he was mounting a rack on the wall of the armory.

Anne did a quick count. "15. And there's 35 AK-47s, as well as five FN FALs."

"55 assault roifles, 4 snoiper roifles… count the SMGs," he ordered.

Anne grumbled, but did as she was told. The armory contained MP5s, Uzis, and AK-74u's, totaling 45 weapons, which Anne reported.

"An' there's the one M60, the shotguns, an' all the damn pistols…" he checked his inventory, which was resting on his shoe."We got… 290 guns, so'f each man gits one main weapon an' a pistol-"

"- 145 men in the field," Anne finished for him.

"Aye. Ye printed out the sheet loike Oi said?"

"'Course I did," she said, offended that he had to ask.

He finished mounting the rack, on which he placed the Organization's sniper rifles- three Remington 700s and an old, but still lethal, Moisin-Nagant. "Put't up on the insoide'f the armory door."

"You're really making people check guns out of an armory? Pet, I think you're thinking of a damn library."

"Aye, they're gonna check out the damn guns. This's gonna be an organoized system, dammit! Oi'm the damn Armorer, Oi'm gonna know who's armed, an' when, an' with whit."

"Since when're you OCD about- well, anything?"

"Since bullets don't grow on fuckin' trees!"he snapped. "Chroist, put up the damn sheet, will ye?"

She did as he said, albeit with an exasperated eye roll. "Fine, fine."

"Good." O'Malley looked around, apparently satisfied with what he saw. Anne repressed a comment about how it had to be a first.

"Roight now, Oi think-"

The armory door flew open, and Anne needed to jump back to avoid being hit as Dan's cousin Rút ran in, eyes glinting.

"Jasus, Dan, yer missin' the craic!" he said.

"'S goin' on?"

"Shots foired a' 7thand H. Police're gone, an' now O'Hanlon's sendin' a patrol ter scope't out."

"7than' H… tha's the little dip inter Choinese territory, isn' it?"

"Aye. Oi'm ter git… two sawed-off shotguns, an FAL, and two AK-74u's, 's well's foive 1911s."

Dainial nodded. "Fill out the sheet," he said and explained the process. As Rút did as his cousin asked, he retrieved the weapons his cousin asked for, as well as a Glock 9mm, an Uzi, a .44 Magnum, and an AK-47, handing the Glock and Uzi to Anne." "C'mon, Kirkland, we're goin' too."

Anne arched an eyebrow. "You're inviting me?"

"Huh? Tá tú ag tabhairt an Sasanach?" Rút asked. "Tá tú cinnte go bhfuil an smaoineamh maith, Dan?"

Anne glowered. "It's rude to talk about someone in a language they don't understand."

"Both o' ye, shut up. An' aye, c'mon the lot o' ye," Dan told them.

They left Headquarters in a van with blacked-out windows, driving to the corner of 7thand H Streets, where Dan, Rút, Anne, and three of the other men climbed out. The driver stayed in the van, sub-machinegun on his lap.

"So, who started shootin'?" Dan asked.

"Choinese foired on a police vehicle when't passed through their terr- HIT THE DIRT!"

A shot rang out and, as the patrol flattened themselves, a bullet caught one of the men- Anne thought his name was McLean- in the stomach, and he went down as if his bones had vanished. Blood welled up in the wound, pooling out onto the pavement.

"Fuck!" Rút said angrily, "Return foire!" he shouted, firing his FAL blindly at the buildings on the corner.

"Where?" Dan asked. "Denny, 't's a damn snoiper, we need ter git ta-"

CRACK! Another shot came from the building and ricocheted off the asphalt, missing the patrol. The sniper was apparently not a very good one.

"Denny, O'Donnell, Bonnie- wi' me," Dan ordered immediately, raising himself off the ground and rushing the building where he had seen a muzzle flash, AK in hand. Rút followed him closely, with Anne and O'Donnell not far behind.

Dan kicked in the door, aiming his AK at various objects in the foyer. "Empty. C'mon, let's sweep the house. O'Donnell, take the basement an' ground floor, Denny, floor two ta four, an' Bonnie, yer wi' me."

"Jist who's leadin' this patrol?" Rút grumbled.

Dan turned on him. "GODDAMMIT, RÚT, DO'S OI TELL YE!" He grabbed Anne's shoulder and propelled her up the stairs, passing her at the landing between the third and fourth floors.

They came to a door. "Ye know procedure?"

"Aye. You go high, I'll go low."

Dan broke the door in, and they saw four very startled Chinese men, but not the sniper.

Anne pointed her Uzi, and Dan his AK, into the room. "Hands up, this's a raid," the Irishman ordered. "Bonnie, collect their guns, Oi'll cover ye."

One of the Chinese pulled a pistol but, before he could fire, Anne pulled her trigger. The bullet slashed through his shoulder, causing pain but no serious damage.

"Oi," Dan said, his finger on the trigger tightening, "would nawr have done tha'f Oi were ye…"

Translations:

Craic- Fun- Gaelic

Tá tú ag tabhairt an Sasanach- You're bringing the Sasanach [Saxon/Englishman]- Gaelic

Tá tú cinnte go bhfuil an smaoineamh maith, Dan?- Are you sure that's a good idea, Dan?- Gaelic