So we had to opt for Plan B. It was agreed that Gunnar would sneak into the compound first and make a sniper's nest on top of the school's auditorium building. Nate advised he would accompany Gunnar inside and try to make contact with the Scion kids and lead them to safety. The idea was that once Nate located the kids, the rest of us, with mighty Jack leading the way, would launch the main frontal assault and give Nate the distraction he needed to get away with the Scion kids.
Gunnar and Nate sized up the security situation for about an hour. They noticed a crucial gap in the change of guards rotation and exploited it. Gunnar texted that he was in position, and Nate reported he was entering the student dorms. He texted us regularly "...found another one.", etc.
It seemed like an eternity before we got the text from Nate: "Have kids, but need a distraction. Now." Jack gunned the engine of his van and motioned to Laurel to follow. I twitched in the passenger's seat beside her, ready for action but also nervous as hell. I hadn't felt this keyed up since the UN Peacekeeping missions in my youth, serving with the Irish Defence Forces. Sure, I'd been on drug raids in Dublin and engaged in foot chases that ended with a brawl and my slapping cuffs on. I'd even been in some hostage rescue situations, bomb threat situations with the Emergency Response Unit (ERU) of Garda. But I was still feeling jumpy and ill at ease.
Laurel and Nate had both performed rituals from their pantheons beforehand, saying they would help us in battle; I knew of similar rituals from The Tuatha, so I knew this to be true. I could see the concern in Laurel's eyes as she glanced at me. I knew what she must be thinking, making a mental diagnosis...
PTSD
Yeah, probably so. Feck all I could do about it right now.
When Jack rolled up to the main gate and a guard approached, Jack used the vehicle's door like a battering ram and sent the mall-ninja SWAT wannabe flying back. At the same instant, Gunnar's Barrett sniper rifle roared to life and the other Guard at the fence took a .50 cal round to the back of one of his shoulders. SHOWTIME!
I sprang out of the van and drew a bead on the man who had just been hit, while Nevermore flew in high arc, diving down just after I released a volley from my Sig Sauer P226. Not all my shots penetrated but I definitely had his attention now. With a magic bird in his face and a few of my bullets in him, he tried to raise his weapon but his shots went wild, missing everyone. I took more careful aim and dropped him with my next volley as Jack continued to physically assault the gate and, holy hell, now he was hoisting it up as high as his waist.
Laurel dropped the man on her side and shouted to me: "Phalanx!!"
"Ah, the Greek way..." I shouted back.
Laurel said "Right!!!"
Laurel and I took cover behind the massive chunk of fence that Jack was hefting. More camp guards were pouring out from the security office and opening up, beginning to splinter the fence...Some of them aimed where they knew Jack must be, given the position of his legs, but Jack just shrugged off the shots, which did no damage to him. The gate in splinters, Jack rushed forward to punch the nearest guard. Laurel let loose a mean but only marginally effective volley with her M-16, while took my time to line up a shot with my Sig. I took my next man down but his buddy drew a bead on me at the same time and unleashed a hellish volley of M-16 fire.
I don't know why, but in that instant I flashed back to a moment when I was on the Trinity College Rugby team. We were playing a tough team from Londonderry, Northern Ireland. Tensions were high, and the NI team had really clobbered us in the first half of play. After a motivational speech from our coach...not unlike Nate's pep talk before this battle...we fought our way slowly back to a tie game. With seconds remaining, I slipped past the NI defenders and sprinted and dove into their goal to score the winning point. I felt as if I was re-enacting that moment...I did feel a few rounds from the rifle slam into my body, but this time my Irish luck came through for me...no penetration yet. I quickly assessed the tactical situation and decided I needed to gain a height advantage; I lept up onto the auditorium roof in a single holy bound, holstered my P226, unslung my M-16 and took up a crouching position right next to Gunnar.
"Hey Brendan, what's up?" said Gunnar quickly without looking up, getting ready to squeeze off another shot.
"Got shot--not as bad this time." I replied in staccato.
Gunnar finished off the rest of the attackers before I could let loose with my M-16.
I pointed to the roof of the student housing and Gunnar read my thoughts and nodded, both of us leaping over to the next building. From our vantage point on the roof, we could see a new platoon of bad guys advancing on our position from the Teacher housing complex/Administration area. I spotted our quarry, Father O'Brien, at the back of the formation and pointed him out. Gunnar took aim with the Barrett and let loose a volley, aimed at the frocked fuck's head. Everything seemed to slow down and I swear I watched the bullet track and ever so slightly veer off course, where it struck and killed one of the rifle toting guards instead. Jesus, Mary, and Holy Saint Joseph what the in the name of hell was THAT? I glanced down at my Garda nightstick and said to myself "try dodging this when I stick it up your Yank arse, ye bastard son of Erin."; The opposing platoon split into two squads, each heading for a door of our building. I let loose a volley of full auto fire against the squad headed for the cafeteria below, but only managed to wound and slow them down. I saw Father O'Brien fleeing back into the Admin complex. Gunnar was slightly more effective with the other squad, but still only managed to inflict some wounds and slow them down. Both squads breached the doors and I could hear the gun battle beginning to rage below us. Gunnar looked as though he wanted to jump down and join the fight, but I was still filled with rage watching the coattails of the fleeing priest disappear into the administration complex.
"That fucker has to be stopped before he gets away..." I yelled to Gunnar.
"We should do this as a team" Gunnar protested, thinking of Laurel fighting for her life below us.
"I'm going NOW!", I insisted
Gunnar paused for a split second then retorted "I'm coming with you."
We both lept from the dormitory roof, and I activated my Gae Bolga in midair, but it must've thrown me off balance a bit, because I landed rather hard and it knocked the wind out of me and I stumbled a bit. Gunnar hit the ground more gracefully and was already speeding down the passage when I had regained my balance and looked up.
I could see down into the passage ahead that there was a fork; Gunnar hugged the left wall, and pointed his rifle down the right fork when he approached, but evidently heard Father O'brien running up the other passage and yelled back to me "He's headed left."; I charged forward in pursuit.
I was always several steps behind Gunnar; he had already turned the next corner when I reached the first.
"Damn it." I cursed, to no one in particular, and kept running.
When I cleared the next corner, I felt more than heard a massive explosion ahead and saw Gunnar rocket backwards into one of the passage walls in front of me, propelled by flames and a shock wave and shrapnel that I could see and hear embedding itself into the walls, into the ceiling and into Gunnar.
As he nonchalantly picked the still smoking shrapnel from his face, he casually commented that he'd evidently turned the good father into an involuntary suicide bomber. I was happy for the win, but felt cheated from being able to skewer that frocked fat fuck for myself. I helped Gunnar gather the birthrights and we headed back to the student dormitory. Knowing Jack and Nate and Laurel, and some new Scion named Camilla, I figured (correctly) that the battle would be over already. I was happy to be proved correct.
Gunnar and I stepped into the cafeteria as one of the children were explaining something about the dead girl named Brigette and said that she says a normal person needs her glasses to see her. I recalled that one of the birthrights we recovered were a pair of glasses with a missing lens...
"You mean this?" I said, handing them to Laurel...Laurel took them from my hands and put them on her face and I saw an expression of shock, amazement and surprise cross her face. She began a conversation with this invisible entity from beyond. Turns out we'd had another spectral member of our party for some time now. Brigette asked us to return her corpse to New Orleans for a proper burial...which we agreed to.
"Just in time for Mardis Gras", I thought. "That's Grand."
We made introductions and returned the birthrights to their owners.
Nate and Gunnar went outside to bring the vans around.
We began to clear the kids out when one of the boys bumped into one of the girls, and she wheeled around and stabbed him with her trident. Laurel and the student named Camilla (who, we learned was 27 and working under-cover for her pantheon and only *looked* 18) managed to break up the fight...the children seemed dazed and amnesiac about what had just happened. We removed their birthrights as a safety precaution for now. Gunnar texted to know WTF was taking so long, and we informed him to get his ass back in here; Nate, too.
We gave them both an updated Sit-Rep on what had just transpired in their absence.
I perhaps thought I should invoke the ability I have called "Smoking Mirror"...by staring at the moon I can get a bird's eye view of the land...but before I could mention this, Laurel had already launched Nevermore aloft on a recon mission. Nevermore located a man on a distant hill. Gunnar and Nate and Camilia bounded back outside, while Laurel, Jack and I looked after the kids.
A few minutes later, Gunnar came back in and let us know they found Timothy and he blew his head off. Gunnar said he'd called Timothy on the phone before shooting him, and Tim had told him, as if by divine command, to drop his weapon, but Gunnar said "no" and dropped him with a well placed sniper round. Nate revealed all the evidence he collected from Timothy's person. Security consultant my pasty white Irish arse. I had a suspicion this Timothy was too good to be true. Gunnar seemed rather out of it, though. Like he'd reached a certain point mentally and just broke. His eyes had that 1000 yard stare I'd seen before in IRA men who'd fought too many battles. He was mumbling, not talking with the same confidence I'd always known up to this point. He absently even mentioned wrapping things up and heading back to Chicago. The hurt expression on Laurel's face in reaction to this made me wince as well. We agreed to split up into the two vans. I felt obligated to ride along with Nate and young Brendan Gair in the other van. I felt grateful for being spared the long awkward silences that were bound to await the passengers in the other vehicle. I also felt a sense of obligation to look after young Brendan. Sure, he was a Yank and only of distant Irish heritage...but he was still of The Tuatha...and we Irish have to stick together in this cruel world.
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