Cillian
“So, nothing’s going on in your part of the world, eh?” Artem drawls.
“That’s not exactly what I said,” I argue. “How the fuck are you even here?”
“Really? You wanna have a little catch-up chat in the middle of a fucking battle?”
“Fair point. Let’s kill these fuckers and then talk. Me first.”
A few of the Kinahans have clearly been instructed to run through the smoke to try and get to us. Clearly, they assume that the smoke is merely a diversion for us to escape.
So a few of them look fucking shell-shocked when they pass through the smoke to see a whole army still waiting for them on the other side.
The smoke’s clearing now, though. No more waiting. Time to act.
I spot Brody Murtagh.
He’s standing on the runner board of one of the jeeps, his head raised above the roof so that he can see past the ranks of his own men.
He’s well-protected, ensconced behind a group of armed guards.
But I notice the uncertain glint in his eye as he realizes that the playing field is now far more even.
I charge forward, letting my bullets fly free through the air. I kill three Kinahan men before reaching their broken defense line.
I’ve already lost track of Artem, not to mention Kian. But now that I’ve got eyes on Murtagh, I don’t want to let him slip through my fingers.
If I kill this motherfucker once and for all, I defang the snake.
And the Kinahan mafia will be left flailing once again.
Two Kinahan fuckers approach me. One fires while the second tries a more personal approach. I manage to dodge the bullet and somersault over the second one before he lands a punch.
I twist around long enough to fire two bullets at both of them before tearing forward, straight for Brody’s jeep.
And then something catches my eye.
Or rather, someone catches my eye.
Tristan is trying desperately to avoid being seen as he ducks behind one of the other jeeps.
Except that he’s one lonely man who doesn’t seem keen on the fight. That makes him stick out like a sore thumb.
I glance towards Brody’s jeep, weighing my options, and then I make an executive decision.
Tristan dies first.
Brody can wait his turn.
Decision made, I change trajectory and sprint for the jeep behind which Tristan is hiding.
Even as I approach, I can see him desperately loading up his gun.
The moment I turn the corner, he raises the gun and fires predictably. I jump forward and land on my side on the ground with my arms raised.
As I go, I fire twice. The first bullet misses, but the second one buries itself in his thigh.
I bound back to my feet instantly and spring forward, feeling satisfaction surging in my veins.