"Well, I've helped to wind up the clock - I might as well hear it strike!" - Michael Joseph "The O'Rahilly", 23 or 24 April 1916

Easter Sunday, Dublin

If you happened to be a random pedestrian pedaling down the streets of Dublin on your bicycle some time before the sun would rise on Easter morn, probably getting some fresh air, going to get an early morning beer at the local pub before getting ready for church, or seeking to be the early bird and not let any other bloke steal the front pews, chances are that in the distance, if you were all alone and/or anybody or anything was not making too much noise, you could faintly hear some singing. Running to the source of the singing, growing louder as you get closer, you soon make out amidst all of the singing the sound of a rumbling of tanks driving down the street. Your curiosity growing, you get closer, until you finally see the source of all that commotion.

In front of you are dozens upon dozens of girls, wearing grey-green tunics and matching-color trousers, with bandoliers across their torso, marching smartly in formation carrying rifles. Bayonets are sitting on their belts, all are wearing slouch hats, save for their apparent officers wearing caps, and lacking bandoliers, replaced with a belt across their chest, and shoulder boards denoting their rank. At the head, two girls are carrying two flags. One flag is a tricolor, green to the left, white in the middle, and orange to the right, the other is a pure green flag with the words "IRISH REPUBLIC" emblazoned on the flag. But what catches your attention is not the amount of girls marching down the street, or the flags. It's the tanks, specifically which one is at the head.

A Centurion, used only for the Governor herself, is the lead tank in this force. At the cupola is a commanding figure, towering above the others, bearing an appearance different from Rukuriri, and where the St. Gloriana insignia was supposed to be, in its stead was painted that same Irish tricolor, with a star underneath. Snapping out of your trance, you run to the side just as the oncoming force marches past where you previously stood. As the Centurion passes, you get a better view of the figure, and with your own eyes, see Coleen, one of Ireland's best tank commanders. As she passes by, a Churchill is the next to come, and standing on its cupola is another tank commander, Patricia. Not as imposing as Coleen, she nevertheless had a commanding presence. Her tank bore the same insignia as Coleen's.

The tank that came after was another Churchill, commanded by Shannon. Her tank bore the same Irish tricolor, and beneath that, rather than a star, sat a Shamrock, the symbol of the Shamrock Brigade, with a harp below. Behind that was the second Churchill, commanded by a wounded Caitlin, visibly struggling to keep herself upright on the cupola, her symbol being two rifles crossed over a bayonet, the Raider Brigade's insignia. You stand awestruck as the rest of the tanks pass by, the singing continuing on. You run to one Volunteer at the middle of the parade, and question her what is going on, and why on earth they had the Centurion with them. You get this response:

"The Rising begins today. Ireland is to be free, even if we are all dead."

You ask where they are going, and learn they are going to the General Post Office. Planes fly overhead, and you look up to see Spitfires and Mosquitoes bearing the colors of the Irish tricolor on their wings as well.

She resumes singing with the others, and you are left with a deep impression as the last of the force passes by. The singing dies down as they all march further and further away from you, marching to certain doom, marching to destiny. Marching to independence. They were all singing the song Óró, sé do bheatha 'bhaile, an old Jacobite song that received new lyrics from Patricia to fit the spirit of the time. Shannon was singing the verses solo as the others joined in the chorus.

Óró, sé do bheatha 'bhaile,
Óró, sé do bheatha 'bhaile,
Óró, sé do bheatha 'bhaile
Anois ar theacht an tsamhraidh.

'Sé do bheatha, a bhean ba léanmhar,
Do b' é ár gcreach tú bheith i ngéibheann,
Do dhúiche bhreá i seilbh méirleach,
Is tú díolta leis na Gallaibh.

Óró, sé do bheatha 'bhaile,
Óró, sé do bheatha 'bhaile,
Óró, sé do bheatha 'bhaile
Anois ar theacht an tsamhraidh.

Tá Gráinne Mhaol ag teacht thar sáile,
Óglaigh armtha léi mar gharda,
Gaeil iad féin is ní Gaill ná Spáinnigh,
Is cuirfidh siad ruaig ar Ghallaibh.

Óró, sé do bheatha 'bhaile,
Óró, sé do bheatha 'bhaile,
Óró, sé do bheatha 'bhaile
Anois ar theacht an tsamhraidh.

A bhuí le Rí na bhFeart go bhfeiceam,
Mura mbeam beo ina dhiaidh ach seachtain,
Gráinne Mhaol agus míle gaiscíoch,
Ag fógairt fáin ar Ghallaibh.

Óró, sé do bheatha 'bhaile,
Óró, sé do bheatha 'bhaile,
Óró, sé do bheatha 'bhaile
Anois ar theacht an tsamhraidh!

"IRISHMEN, AND IRISHWOMEN! In the name of God and of the dead generations from which she receives her old tradition of nationhood, Ireland, through us, summons her children to her flag and strikes for her freedom!"

Patricia's voice rang out with the sound of a thousand eruptions as she read out the Proclamation of Irish Rights and Sovereignty out loud to the people gathering at the General Post Office, wondering what the commotion was about and why there were this many uniformed girls stationed at the building, wearing different uniform than St. Gloriana, and why on earth the flag of St. Gloriana had been taken down and replaced by two other flags, one saying "IRISH REPUBLIC". Hearing Patricia's voice quickly summoned them in front of her, flanked by Volunteers to her right and left, and a squad behind her.

"The Irish Republic is entitled to, and hereby claims, the allegiance of every Irishman and Irishwoman. The Republic guarantees religious and civil liberty, equal rights and equal opportunities to all its citizens, and declares its resolve to pursue the happiness and prosperity of the whole nation and of all its parts, cherishing all the children of the nation equally, and oblivious of the differences carefully fostered by an alien Government, which have divided a minority from the majority in the past."

The crowd began to murmur amongst each other. Religious and civil liberty was something the Irish citizens had been forced to watch be stripped away from them. If this was some action to finally free them from this bondage, then they were happy to do so. However, there were other Gloriana citizens in the crowd as well who did not like what was going on.

"Hey, about time, eh! We've hated this Gloriana oppression ever since it started!"

"YEAH! AND WE WANT OUT NOW!"

"Oh shut up, you're unwilling to be a part of us?"

"Yeah, look what your country's done to us, stripping us away!"

"I say Gloriana has done more for us than you ever would've. Look at all that's been built!"

"In exchange for ruining our identity? I wouldn't say so."

"Stupid Irish, eh? Stubborn and foolish, if I do say so myself."

"Indeed, we'd better not waste any more time here."

"...In this supreme hour the Irish nation must, by its valour and discipline, and by the readiness of its children to sacrifice themselves for the common good, prove itself worthy of the august destiny to which it is called. So long as there be a hair of Gloriana occupation remaining on this sacred island, Ireland unfree shall never be at peace!

GOD SAVE IRELAND!"

Some of the more nationalist civilians in the crowd repeated the chant as the squad behind Patricia fired a blank volley into the air as a feu de joie. At that same moment, six Volunteers emerged from the building, carrying two rifle crates and boxes of ammunition as Patricia nailed the proclamation to a pillar nearby and walked back inside the Post Office. A seventh Volunteer emerged in Patricia's place and began to call for any civilians willing to help take up arms against the government. Once the Volunteer had stopped speaking, a dozen civilians immediately burst from the crowd to join the Volunteers in the fight against Gloriana. Eagerly taking the rifles and ammunition, they were given bandoliers and a uniform as well as an armband and ordered to go change. This they did, and they were now part of the Volunteers. Six more followed suit as the rest of the crowd watched on.

In the general vicinity of the Post Office, the Centurion was placed in front of the Post Office itself, with the Churchills watching both sides of Sackville Street. A Black Prince was dispatched to guard O'Connell Bridge, the other sent to take position at the junction between Henry Street and Sackville. The Matildas were placed at several junctions such as the junction between Sackville and Abbey Street, the junction at Nelson's Column, and the junction at Prince's Street. Corkie's M4s that were part of the Headquarters battalion took positions at the Parnell Monument, Moore Street, Abbey Street, and Marlborough Street. Corkie herself took position next to the Centurion, two powerful tanks that could knock out any St. Gloriana tank in a hit.

With several spots filled by the new recruited civilians, Coleen could afford to divert more Volunteers to secure the communications stations, all the while the rest of the battalion dug in for a siege, erecting barricades at road junctions and around the tanks they had placed, each barrel pointed down the street, expecting columns of St. Gloriana tanks to travel down those streets. For hours the work continued on, without any St. Gloriana trouble, save for a few policemen and constables trying to diffuse the situation, who were promptly forced away. Coleen oversaw the fortification of the areas surrounding the Post Office, while Patricia handled the interior of the Post office itself. It was hard work and hot work, but they were determined to make St. Gloriana pay for every inch of the land they occupied.

Four hours after the Volunteers had first arrived at the Post Office, one of the scouts announced that the visitors had finally arrived. Radioing Coleen through a captured radio center, the scout reported a large column of many Matildas, Crusaders, and Cromwells heading down Frederick Street up north. At the same time, the Black Prince stationed at the O'Connell monument, as well as two M4s stationed nearby, spotted a column of Black Princes, Matildas, and Cromwells heading down Westmoreland Street. Both columns were surrounded by infantry rushing forwards as a supoprt vanguard for the tanks. Relaying the news to Patricia, Corkie, Shannon, Caitlin, and the others, she conversed for a bit, before solemnly giving the order that would fire the first shots of Irish independence.

"Ghrainne Maol now drives the invaders before you. Support her."

A few minutes later, the guns opened up.

Maud and her Flying Devils had been waiting for the first signs of combat to begin. It had been six hours since Coleen, Patricia, and the others had left. Now, they had certainly taken over their assigned locations by now. Looking through binoculars, she could see the Gloriana flag of the General Post Office being lowered and replaced with the green, white, and orange flag and the Irish Republic flag. But after that, there was not much else. All was quiet, save the very faint shouting of the Volunteer officers and the noise of fortifications being erected. Initially standing ready, Maud had allowed the Devils to catch some more sleep before the big day, getting some herself. However, two hours later, she was rudely woken up by one of the Devils.

"Maud! Wake yer lazy blouse up, the fayt's startin'!"

Without a moment to spare, Maud changed back into her Flying Devils Commandant's uniform and summoned the others to prepare to take off. Outside, the sounds of explosions and bursts could be heard in the distance, and there was some smoke visible in Dublin, most likely from destroyed tanks that everyone hoped belonged to St. Gloriana. Rushing to their planes, the Devils knelt as a priest gave them all general absolution, just as he had done prior to the departure of the Volunteers, and after a short prayer, the fifty Flying Devils swiftly boarded their planes, and taxied to the takeoff field, with Maud at the head, about to start making St. Gloriana's day a thousand times worse.

Maud had trained her girls to wait at least 30, at most 45 seconds after a wave took off for the next wave to do the same, thanks to the turbulence that would be left in the wake of the first wave. The rule was followed accordingly as each plane took off in waves of five. Flying towards Dublin, the Flying Devils circled the city, looking for where the action was taking place, and after calculating their attacks, they went in piecemeal so as to avoid a collision, coordinating via radio. The Spitfires strafed the crowded Gloriana infantry and the tanks below, while the Mosquitoes did the same in addition to dropping bombs on arsenals and other important areas of supply.

Dublin had now become a full warzone. The Easter Rising, as it would come to be known, had begun.

London - four hours later

"...but... Assam-sama, we-"

"You heard what she said! Friendliness is out of the question."

"Should've suggested this earlier, Pekoe."

"I did, but you all laughed at me for it! Look at where we are now!"

"Are you calling us idiots?!"

"Yeah, because my approach was much better than your suggestion!"

"You're just a little orange-braided brainlet with a twin little cousin that only makes you popular because she's cute!"

"SAY THAT AGAIN!"

"Enough."

Darjeeling's calm, yet very firm voice reined them both into submission.

"This is MOST unladylike of you, Rukuriri. I must warn you, next time I shall not hesitate to evict you from the Tea Garden."

"Forgive me, Darjeeling-san."

"As for you, Pekoe, pray, do try to control yourself next time."

"Apologies, Darjeeling-sama. I shall try my best to restrain myself."

A knock on the door alerted everyone's attention. Being summoned inside, Cranberry entered the room, bearing a parchment in her hand and a solemn, worried expression on her face. Some began to grow worried, fearful of what the paper's contents must have. Indeed, as Darjeeling read it, her equanimity seemed to be chipped away by each passing sentence. When she had finished, the calmness and collectedness usually found on Darjeeling's face had been completely swapped with a face full of worry, dread, concern, and surprise. Leaning over to hear what their Commander was to say, the next few words that came out of her mouth completely dumbfounded them all.

"Ireland... has revolted..."

"WHAT?!"

Cranberry spoke up to finish the report.

"The rebels have taken the General Post Office, the Four Courts, the Dublin Union Workhouse, Boland's Mill, and several communications stations. Shall I give a timeline of the events, Commander?"

"Please, we must know what happened."

"Ahem.

A few minutes before sunrise, several columns across Dublin were seen bearing the tanks reported stolen over the past two weeks. These included the Centurion, four Churchills, four Black Princes, four Cromwells, three Crusaders, eleven Matildas, five Landsverks, and four Vickers Mk. Ds. There were also several American M4s, and we presume them to be Irish-Saunders Volunteers. We haven't been notified of any interventions from Saunders.

The Centurion, two Churchills, two Black Princes, M4s, and three Matildas were seen taking positions in and around the General Post Office, and accompanying infantry numbering in the hundreds erected barricades from sandbags, furniture, and other objects in use for said barricades. A girl, recognized by some witnesses as being named Patricia, stood at the entrance of the GPO and read out a 'Proclamation of Irish Rights and Sovereignty' to a large crowd of onlookers as two flags were hoisted on top of the building. One was a tricolor of green, white, and orange, and another was green with the words 'Irish Republic' on them."

"You mean they're declaring independence?"

"Sounds like it, now let me finish, please.

At several stations, uniformed girls were handing out rifles and armbands to civilians who seemed willing to join, and that has bolstered their numbers a bit, we estimate around sixty civilians who enlisted. Groups of dozens were reported to have been sent to take communications stations such as telegraph and radio stations and have begun broadcasting propaganda.

The same has happened at the Four Courts, where two Black Princes, two Churchills, two Cromwells, and a Crusader were stationed. The recruitment campaign there got around twenty or so civilians. At the Dublin Union Workhouse, one Crusader and five Matildas took positions and recruited the same amount as at the Four Courts. Boland's Mill, by far, saw the most recruited at around eighty. Some rebels were successful in taking Dublin Castle and City Hall, and Trinity College, but failed elsewhere in some communications stations, and a raid on the Magazine fort brought little results. Our girls were dispatched to quell the rebellion, but the rebels are standing as stubborn as obsidian."

"The fighting is still ongoing, Cranberry-sama?"

"Precisely. Today is April 24th, Easter Sunday, and it has been around four hours since the rebellion began with the reported arrival of the rebel forces. We have knocked out two Matildas, an M4-"

"What do you mean M4?"

"Irish-Saunders Volunteers."

"There's people from Saunders now? Goodness!"

"As I was saying, an M4, and a Black Prince, but we've suffered far worse, losing around eighteen tanks."

"Eighteen! Is there anything else?"

"A majority of the losses weren't due to the tanks, I'm afraid I forgot to mention this earlier, but planes are involved and knocked out eleven of our tanks, according to the reports."

"Planes?! What planes are the rebels using!?"

"Spitfires, Mosquitoes, and a Hawker Tempest. We managed to shoot down three Spitties and four Skeeters, but the Tempest is a pain to attempt to take out. We tried responding, but the rebels were well-led and well-coordinated. We lost eight Spitfires, six Mosquitoes, a couple Beaufighters, and a Corsair before our aviators were forced to withdraw."

"Commander, this is bad. I'm willing to flatten all of Dublin if necessary to quell this revolt."

"Assam-sama, you can't be serious, that will only get more to revolt against us!"

"Anything to end this rebellion."

Silence hung in the air as Darjeeling weighed her options. The rebels couldn't afford to be allowed to succeed. If they were able to drive out their forces, then that would make things far, far more difficult. Not only would the rebels have full control over Dublin, they would have access to every arsenal, every factory, every facility that could be used to better their tank force, not to mention the fact that they could get much more support now that they had free reign over the city. All that they had worked for would be lost, and with the largest city in Ireland in rebel hands, it wouldn't be long before the other counties would revolt as well. In fact, there was a chance they were revolting that very moment, inspired by the actions in Dublin.

They had to quell the uprising before it got worse.

"Assam, I am giving you full control over the situation. Use any means necessary to quell this revolt.'

"With pleasure, Commander."

An aura of uncertainty covered the room as Assam walked out of the door to deal with the Irish threat once and for all. She had held some degree of certainty that the raiders of the past two weeks had been these same Irish rebels, or at least supporter paramilitaries. Now, not just stolen tanks, but planes were in use by the rebels, it was as if it were a foreign army invading. Everyone in that room knew that Assam wasn't going to be light. She would take this rebellion down by any means necessary, even if it meant utterly flattening the city like a pancake.

Washington, D.C., Saunders - 32 hours later

"...and for the past thirty-six hours, there has been intense fire from both sides, the rebels having the advantage of position and fortification against St. Gloriana's superior numbers. The General Post Office has come under some fire, and in the air there has been an intense battle for supremacy. There has been strafing and bombing by Spitfires and Mosquitoes, and there has been much damage dealt to the city from both sides..."

"Sure hope Corkie's doing fine there, would hate to lose a gal like her..."

"Aw, have some faith, Kay! She's one of our best tankers, I'm sure she'll do them rebs well!"

"Only problem is the fact this isn't a match."

"Match or no match, she can power through anything!"

"Only this time... she's up against impossible odds."

"Come on, Emma, you too?"

"Listen, I'm just being realistic. They're up against one of the strongest armies in the world with hundreds, perhaps thousands of tanks to bear, all with just forty tanks and fifty or so planes. I'm not seeing any success happening here."

"Emma's got a point, Alisa. They're up against a lot of good tankers. Try as they might, take as many out as they can, they'll get overwhelmed soon. Unless, they can be able to establish a stronghold with a few arsenals that'll drag the battle out longer."

"Plus, she also has the braincells to know that wearing a helmet in the middle of a tank fight is probably the smartest idea..."

"LIKE YOU DON'T WEAR ONE, TOO!"

"Quiet down, you two! I'm trying to soak all this in."

"So far, St. Gloriana losses have far outweighed rebel losses. This is expected to continue until the rebels run out of ammunition. However, the seizure of several arsenals by rebels, some of whom were days before ordinary civilians who joined the rising, means that the rebels will not give up anytime soon. The arrival of Assam a few hours ago may change the situation, though only time will tell. St. Gloriana's Commander Darjeeling has yet to make a statement."

"Legs are knocking, definitely."

"So, what do we do?"

"The rebels must've captured some communications centers. I'll try to get into contact with Corkie, and see what's really going on there."

"Alright, Commander, should we muster a relief force, or something?"

"Not yet. If things continue to get worse, then we may be forced to consider intervention."

Dublin

"Hey, Corkie, you got a call from D.C.!"

"Hold it for a minute! Ready on that Crusader... and... FIRE!"

The shot rang true, the shell transforming the Gloriana Crusader into a heap of scrap metal.

"Good! Now take out that Cromwell to our left!"

Taking aim, the gunner fired a single shot from the powerful 76.2mm cannon. The shell was enough to eviscerate the Cromwell as well. At the same time, the 76 next to her fired a shot at a Matilda, and it met the same fate as the others. Seeing the force withdraw from Sackville Street, Corkie took the respite to climb out of her tank and return to the GPO, which had suffered intense bombardment. The walls were a wreck, filled with holes, some pillars had collapsed, some parts of the roof had collapsed, it was a wonder that those who were still inside what was left of the building had avoided a brutal end. Fires were burning that Volunteers rushed to extinguish, running to the waters of the nearby river Liffey where they extracted water, under heavy fire. A couple were mown down in this effort, but the fires were extinguished.

"Over there! Knock out that Matilda!"

"Got 'em!"

"Reload and get ready to fire on that Cromwell!"

"Loaded!"

"Firing! It's a hit! It's gone!"

"I love this baby... Another Matilda! Take it out!"

"Done for!"

"Easy work, ladies, keep it up! Those Gloriana barbarians have nothing on us!"

Coleen was not in the building, instead in her Centurion, commanding the new tanks gotten from new raids on the arsenals, getting the rebels more Matildas, and more Crusaders, as well as more much-needed ammunition. Dozens more had flocked to the Irish banner over the last 36 hours, and they had shown they wanted a free Ireland. They had fought with all they had, though it was expected some would lose their nerve, and who would blame them? It was their first taste of combat. As for Patricia, she was in one of the Churchills, fighting at O'Connell Bridge, holding the chokepoint against a horde of St. Gloriana's tanks. The fighting had been hard, and brutal, and by now, the rebels of the Headquarters battalion had lost eight tanks, including a Churchill, three M4s, and Black Prince. Yet, the two flags of the Irish Republic remained fluttering on the roof of the Post Office.

"Erne! What are you doing?! GET BACK!"

"SORRY, BUSY KNOCKING SOME SENSE INTO THOSE DIRTY SEWER DRINKERS!"

Shannon was leading a desperate defense of the road at the Parnell Monument with her Shamrock Brigade and a couple of M4s. Two of their tanks had gone down and three members had bitten the dust. Shannon herself had been grazed when she attempted to get a better view of the situation out of her cupola, receiving a cut to the hand from a bullet that came mere centimeters from her head. Vice-Commander Clare had also fought hard, her Matilda taking out two other Matildas and a Crusader. Erne, by far, was the most zealous of them all. She was hot in the thick of the action, even going so far as to ram one of the Gloriana tanks, using the resulting confusion to withdraw, audibly taunting the Glorianas behind her. Annalee was also directing fire, though owing to her musical skills, it was very well-organized and coordinated. Laune, on the other hand, was very sporadic and uncoordinated, but she still brought results.

The Rising, elsewhere, had mixed results. Dublin Castle and Trinity College had been occupied, but a raid on the Magazine Fort ended in mostly a failure. The objective of capturing the fort itself had not been realized, but the raiders managed to escape with some supplies, including a single Comet, which hadn't yet been deployed in Dublin. The Four Courts had undergone heavy bombardment, and a fourth of the rebel force sent there had become casualties, including two Matildas. At the Dublin Union Workhouse, the place had become a wreck, and scattered fighting was everywhere. At Boland's Mill, the chokepoint was working as intended: any infantry who attempted to cross the bridge were mown down with ease, and any tanks that attempted to get through were met with heavy cannon, and anti-tank fire. Dozens of St. Gloriana infantry and tanks had already met a gruesome end there, and the slaughter was not yet to end.

"Cycle again! First wave withdraw, second wave proceed with your attack!"

In the air, the Flying Devils were making good work of their Gloriana counterparts. Maud had specifically ordered the Devils to drag the fighting away from the town so as to prevent planes crashing into houses or streets below where there would definitely be bystanders. Organizing attacks in cycles, Maud led the Devils in striking and pulling back to resupply as the previous wave returned to do another cycle. The arsenal had been stockpiled with explosives that were placed in the bomb bays of the Mosquitoes and a few on the belts of the Spitfire pilots to toss into the city below to take out any unlucky Glorianas that happened to be subject to one of these bombs. But, one by one, they were being whittled down. In just the first day alone, eight planes had been shot down. Five pilots had managed to bail, but two were captured. The air war was going well, however, with over twenty Gloriana planes shot down since the Rising began, and over a dozen supply hubs and arsenals bombed.

While all this was happening, Corkie had made her way to the Post Office's communications room, held in the deepest part of the building, though there were cracks on the walls from the shelling and the explosions. Kay was calling from the other side of the world, Washington D.C. Corkie was excited to hear from her old friend at Saunders, having a deep desire to hear her voice again. Initially met with static due to the chaos happening outside, connection was soon established, and Corkie was happily greeted by the voice of her old tankery Commander.

"KAY! How've ya been?!"

"Corkie! Thank goodness, you're still alive. How are things holding up there?"

"We're doing well, we're racking up some large body counts, and we've managed to take control of a few arsenals while we're at it. We've had over a hundred civvies join us since the Rising, all have been a pretty big help!"

"Good to hear, how's Coleen and Pat?"

"They're both still out there kicking Gloriana teeth in! Though, I don't think we can really use this building much longer..."

"Yeah, you guys have been shelled really hard, I saw on the news."

"Depending on how the situation develops, we might attempt a breakout outta here. We've dealt a lot of damage, around four to seven enemy tanks for each one of ours that goes down, as well as the Flying Devils that've been a really great help, but at this rate we'll be dogmeat in a month. We may have captured a few arsenals, but we don't have enough to last for a very long period of time."

"So, how is St. Gloriana handling the operation?"

"Well, they've caused as much damage to the city as we have, a bunch of buildings got wrecked and some innocent civilians got caught in the crossfire, unfortunately. Pat's hoping they cause a lot of damage to the city so they get much of the blame for ruining the town and nobody likes them for it. Otherwise, we might attempt a breakout from the city soon, though it's uncertain when."

"Well, happy hunting, Corkie, just know Saunders has your support! I don't know what on earth Darjeeling's doing, but just know that we have your backs! Besides, you're Saunders citizens, and its our duty to keep you safe!"

"Thanks, Kay. Gotta get back to the action, crew's gonna be wondering where I am. Plus, those Glorianas could be back any minute now."

"Well, rush back! Talk to you later, hopefully!"

"Alright, bye!"

Corkie set the telephone back on its pedestal, and ran as fast as she could back to her Firefly to take command of the action again. As she climbed in, several shells impacted her tank. None penetrated, but it was enough to stir her to action and get the adrenaline pumping again. Gloriana was back, and they wanted to succeed. But it wouldn't be under Corkie's watch, it would never be under Corkie's watch. But, there were some new tanks, them being Comets and Cavaliers.

"Target that Cavalier! Fire!"

"Hit, disabled!"

"Comet! Fire!"

"Disabled!"

"CHURCHILL! GET THAT!"

"FIRING! DISABLED!"

"GOOD WORK, KEEP UP THE FIRE! WE WON'T LET THEM PASS!"

Coleen also began to spot the Comets and Cavaliers starting to arrive. It made her begin to wonder why they didn't find any in the arsenals. No matter, that would be discovered later. All they were right now were more Gloriana tanks to turn into scrap metal. And if anything pleased Coleen more, it was seeing St. Gloriana-owned tanks being turned into scrap metal, and St. Gloriana's soldiers and loyalists being turned into dogmeat.

But if there was anything that grew more obvious, it was the fact that no matter how hard they would fight, they couldn't hold Dublin forever. They had to think of a way to break out, before they were all cut down.

Author's Note: You may have noticed that I changed up several aspects of the historical Easter Rising. Yes, Dublin Castle and Trinity College never fell, but with a bit more members of the Volunteers, the assaults are successful, and there were obviously no planes or tanks involved. But, for the sake of GuP and the fact this is set in the 40s-50s, perhaps 60s, they're in here, too.

The Easter Rising is underway, and sees great success... at first. Although arsenals and castles have been taken alongside their supplies and arms, the rebels are still facing a small fraction of St. Gloriana's forces. Although they have fought long and hard, making St. Gloriana pay for every single inch they advance, it still isn't enough, and they are soon to be wiped out unless something happens. All it takes is a miracle for the uprising to succeed.

Up next - the fight for the Post Office begins to wind down as Coleen, Patricia, and The O'Rahilly think up of a way to break through St. Gloriana's lines and escape to fight another day. And that plan greatly involves The O'Rahilly.