{"id":83,"date":"2013-10-15T11:00:03","date_gmt":"2013-10-15T11:00:03","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.payneful.co.uk\/tales-of-sin\/?p=83"},"modified":"2022-11-03T11:11:17","modified_gmt":"2022-11-03T11:11:17","slug":"the-mercenaries-tale-1-06-the-irish","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.payneful.co.uk\/tales-of-sin\/the-mercenaries-tale-1-06-the-irish","title":{"rendered":"The Mercenaries’ Tale – 1.06 The Irish"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Malone fixed his eye on the stout gentleman before him. The man was overdressed for Undercit, wearing a brown flannel suit, complete with waistcoat and bowler hat. The suit had seen its wearer through thick and thin, with frays and tears all over it. The man himself had seen his own share of wear and tear too, being a pug of a fellow with a big round bald head featuring pits and scars all over it. The bartender recognised the him as being Big Murphy, one of the more prominent influences in Undercit\u2019s various lesser businesses \u2013 cock fights, pit fights, fight fights, all the businesses that involved people hurting each other for the amusement of others. He was also the figurehead of Undercit\u2019s resident Irish1<\/a><\/sup> gang, which was why Malone hadn\u2019t already reached for his faithful shotgun.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMight\u2019ve seen \u2018em,\u201d grunted Malone, fixating his eye on the glass he was turning in his hands against his grubby cleaning cloth. He nodded at the booth in the corner, reluctantly. \u201cThat might be them over there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThenk yeh Mister. Before ai \u2018ave a chinwag with \u2018em, ai fancy a pint. Wan for al\u2019 me mates, too.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The sentence lingered for a moment. Malone had to ask.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat mates?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Murphy cleared his throat, turned his head in the direction of the door and cupped one of his sizeable hands to the side of his mouth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBoys! Beer\u2019s on me!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They all strolled into the Hole, five of them darkening the doorway with their combined silhouette. Murphy\u2019s lads took their places at their master\u2019s side, some noticeably hefting an item that in themselves could be innocent everyday objects, but when combined with the look of sinister intent on the faces of the wielder and the way they were being carried, the implements heavily implied that they could be makeshift weapons. The potential applications of the rusty toaster that one of the gang had were particularly worrying.<\/p>\n\n\n

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\"Murphy<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAi\u2019ll \u2018ave a jar of Stormbreaker for all me lads \u2018ere,\u201d said Murphy. Malone obliged in his own slow, methodical manner, trying not to look at the shotgun just out of reach of his busy hands below the bar top.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The sudden crowd at the bar had not gone unnoticed. The loners at the tables were all sharp enough to know when to make a hasty exit and were all ducking out past the sniggering Irishmen. The mercs had dropped their conversation to a low murmur, and were glancing in the direction of the bar every few moments.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s the Irish. Must be like a bloody family reunion for you Blaise,\u201d said Doug through a half-grin. Blaise scowled at him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not even funny. You have no idea how not funny you\u2019re being right now,\u201d she growled. Doug raised his hands in apology. Their robed friend appeared to be indifferent to the current situation and had not even looked up from their drink. \u201cI\u2019m really not in the mood for a fight,\u201d said Blaise, \u201cwe came in here for a quiet drink.\u201d Doug finished the last half of his pint in one big gulp.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s funny, I was just getting a bit restless myself,\u201d replied Doug as he slammed the glass down on the table before wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his jacket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh gods, the big one\u2019s coming over,\u201d said Blaise, now staring intensely at her pint glass and trying to not be obvious in ignoring the hefty Irishman swaggering towards them. Doug, not being a beacon of tact, looked right at Big Murphy and grinned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s your fuckin\u2019 problem, Paddy?\u201d he announced. Blaise rolled her eyes. Big Murphy paused in walking towards them, pint glass in hand. He appeared to be taken aback for a moment, and then jerked the large outcrop of flesh that was the thumb of his free hand towards the direction of the bar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOi ain\u2019t Paddy. Paddy\u2019s der fella at the bar o\u2019er there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Behind Murphy, the short man at the bar holding a baseball bat like a walking stick raised his pint at them all in recognition. He was balding, but made up for it with large growths of brown hair around the sides of his face and under his chin. Almost a dwarf in stature, Paddy was the shortest member of the crew.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAre you taking the Mickey?\u201d said Doug in disbelief, staring at the short man and looking back to Murphy. A tall, straggly man with a thick mop of ginger hair, a large moustache and a peg-leg stood by the bar removed the pipe from his mouth and raised it as they chimed in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOim Mickey, fella.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI give up,\u201d sighed Doug. \u201cWhat do you want, pal?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Murphy marched to their booth and grinned. He was missing one of his top teeth and he stank of liquor and sweat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI hear thet ye\u2019re the feckers that took down Ol\u2019 McGuinty last week, at Filvais Avenue?\u201d he asked between mouthfuls of the thick black brew in his hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t know what you\u2019re talking about,\u201d said Blaise. She was massaging her forehead with her right hand and was trying to outstare her pint glass. Doug rubbed his chin with his normal hand, drumming his mechanical fingers on the table as he looked up at the ceiling in thought. Their friend in robes remained uninterested in their surroundings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMcGuinty\u2026McGuinty\u2026doesn\u2019t sound familiar,\u201d said Doug. \u201cBut then we kill so many people that it gets hard to remember if any of them were screaming in Irish before we finished them off.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was a loud smash as Murphy threw his glass at the wall above Doug\u2019s head, the thick beer and shards of glass showering over his hair. Doug appeared unconcerned as Murphy slammed his massive paws down on their booth table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYe broke Murphy\u2019s feckin\u2019 law!\u201d yelled the big Irishman, \u201cye broke the law abet not interferin\u2019 with Murphy\u2019s business partners! An\u2019 nigh me and the lads here are gonna haf te teach yer all a lessin! \u2018specially ye, young O\u2019 Donnell!\u201d He shook a pudgy finger in Blaise\u2019s face. \u201cYe shud know better than te mess wif ye heritage!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Blaise broke off the staring contest with her glass and turned her glare on Murphy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe only lesson you could teach us is how to put on such a horrible accent. You\u2019re all a bunch of \u2018typers2<\/a><\/sup> as far as I\u2019m concerned.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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