Family

CHAPTER 1: FAMILY

~ O'Hare's Pub, The Previous Evening ~

"Mush a ring a mah dor um dah,

Whack for the daddy, oh!

Whack for the daddy, oh!

There's whiskey in the jar...HEY!"

After finishing their song, all five men laughed and downed their drinks. Among them sat Patrick "Big Patty" Dolan, patriarch of New Reiswald's most notorious Irish crime family, the Dolans. He was a large, intimidating man with a thick, red beard and greased-back hair that was perpetually concealed by a Paddy cap.

To Patty's right, sat his son and underboss, Michael, or "Mickey" as everyone called him. Young, slim, and baby-faced, Mickey was the complete antithesis to his father, instead bearing more of a resemblance to his late mother. The rest of the table consisted of very close associates to the Dolan Family.

Every Friday evening, the men gathered at O'Hare's, a family-owned pub that served as a base of their operations, which included moonshining, extortion, and gun smuggling. The Dolans were small-time compared to the Bernuccis or the Zolotoy, but were still a force to be reckoned with.

"A toast," said Patty, slurring his speech, "To another successful week. We may not have the funds or the territory as our Italian and Russian 'friends,' but we do have one thing; each other."

"Aye!" the men said before chugging their drinks.

The bartender, Caelan O'Hare, approached the table. A plump, mature woman sporting blonde, braided hair, Caelan knew her way around a gun and was not someone to be underestimated.

"Oy," she said, placing the empty glasses on a large plate, "Slow down, yeah? I ain't in the mood for cleanin' up another one o' your messes."

"Slow down?" Patty spat, "We're just gettin' started, right fellas?"

The men cheered.

"Another round, sweetheart," he said, turning back to Caelan, "An' make it snappy!"

"Mind your goddamn tone, mister," said Caelan, "I ain't your bloody sweetheart! Why can't you be more like your son, eh? Always polite, always treatin' women with respect."

"See, dad?" said Mickey, as Caelan left, "It pays to treat dames nicely once in a while."

"You shut your mouth, boy!" snapped Patty, "For the twenty-five years your mother and I were together, I treated her with nothin' but respect. May God rest her soul."

Mickey glanced downward in sadness. He had been very close to his mother, who passed away two years ago from sickness, and her death still hung over him.

"Geez," said one of the associates, Liam Donnelly, "What's with all this sappy shit? I thought we were here to celebrate the weekend?"

"Actually boys," Patty said, "I was hopin' we could talk a little business tonight."

As Patty leaned in close to the table, the others did the same.

"Our friends in Belfast are payin' us a visit tomorrow," he said, "They are interested in purchasin' some of our merchandise."

"The IRA?" said Danny Martin, another associate, "Why are we just findin' out about this deal now?"

"It is a little last-minute," Mickey admitted, "But we have all this surplus and my dad and I figured this was a great way to make us some extra cash. If they like it enough – Which they will – this could very well mark the start of a lucrative business arrangement."

"So what?" said yet another associate, Sam Mullan, "You want us in bed with those bloodthirsty maniacs? What happens when the Feds find out we've been sponsorin' terrorists?"

"The guns are untraceable," Mickey assured, "Just like all the other guns we..."

Sam stood up and slammed his hands on the table, then stared straight at Patty.

"You," he began, "You're always goin' on about how we don't have much and this and that…Well, how do you expect us to get anywhere in life by being the IRA's bitch, huh?"

"Enough!" snapped Patty, "When I first moved to America as a young lad, I couldn't find work anywhere because 'Irish need not apply'. I was fortunate enough to land a job at the docks, where I worked hard, raisin' money to buy this pub and start me 'business'. So yeah, I was a bitch – Society's bitch – But not anymore. Things are different now."

"Look," Mickey said, "This deal will benefit us in the long run. We'll finally have enough money flowin' in to overtake the other gangs in this town."

Sam sighed and sat back down.

"Alright fine," he said, "I just hope this time, things turn out alright."

"I don't know about the rest of ya," said Liam, "But I think it's a sweet deal."

Just then, Caelan arrived with the next round of drinks, and served each man.

"A toast," said Patty, "To new horizons. May we come out on top!"

"Aye!" the men downed their drinks once again.

---

Later that night, every man had left except for Mickey and his father, though they were getting ready to leave as well.

"Oy," Caelan called, "Get a move on, yeah? It's closin' time!"

"Ah, fuck off!" snapped Patty, "It's my goddamn bar. I can do whatever the fuck I want!"

Caelan scoffed and retreated to the kitchen.

"Son," said Patty, "I need you to go to the port tomorrow with the boys an' oversee things there."

"Sure, dad," said Mickey, "Anything."

Patty then placed a hand on his son's shoulder.

"Also," he began, "I need ye to keep a close eye on Mr. Mullan."

"Sam?" said Mickey, "I've known him since we were kids. You knew his father for years! Why..."

"I know that! It's not that I don't trust the man or nothin'. It's just...We're at a very crucial point. The other families grow stronger by the day, and ours won't survive much longer without this deal. I can't have people questionin' our resolve; I need to make sure all of our heads are in the game."

"Of course, dad. I understand. Sam's a great guy. I'll make sure he sees it the way I do."

"Good, good. Now, why don't ye head on home? It's late and ye need to get some rest."

"What about you?"

"Bah, I'm too drunk. I think I'm gonna crash here for the night."

"Caelan won't like that, ya know."

"Tell her she can go suck a lemon, aye?"

Mickey chuckled and shook his head, then headed for the door.

---

The following day, the men gathered in the back room of O'Hare's to prepare for the meeting at the docks.

"Nice piece," said Danny, watching Liam load his Webley revolver.

"Was my old man's," Liam said, "He fought in the Irish Civil War, then fled here to avoid persecution. Right to the end, he was always goin' on about a 'unified Ireland' and this n' that. It's all bullshit."

"Yeah?"

"In America, no one gives a damn about Irish politics. Northern, Republic - Don't matter where you're from, cause we ain't nothin' but Micks here. All that's important to us now is rakin' in that dough, right?"

"Amen, brother."

Liam then snapped his revolver shut and pocketed it.

"'Course," he continued, "I still keep the piece 'cause it's a goddamn work of art."

At that moment, Mickey entered the back room.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

Liam and Danny nodded, then followed Mickey outside to where a black limo was parked. Mickey and Sam entered via the back, while Liam sat up front and Danny took the wheel. Once everyone was settled, Danny set a course for the port. Along the way, jazz music played on the car's radio.

"And now," said the radio announcer, as the song ended, "Time for a NRBN newsbreak with your anchor, Miles Darwin."

"Good afternoon," the news anchor spoke in a hurried voice, "This just in; Dozens of livestock found dead at Appleton Farms due to a mysterious contaminant. This same contaminant has infected several crops as well. Farmers are asking residents of New Reiswald to inspect all produce for dark spots or other signs and to discard immediately if found. So far, five people have been hospitalized due to..."

"Bah," said Liam, switching to a Big Band station, "They're always tellin' us to eat our veggies and shit, and now all of a sudden, they're bad for you? Am I right?"

Mickey was too preoccupied to respond; as he glanced out the window, he saw a crowd of people gathered on the sidewalk while two officers ran towards them. In a few seconds, they were out of sight, leaving Mickey to wonder what was going on. Given the kind of neighbourhood they were passing through, he presumed it was a small turf war or a gang bang.

"Hey Sam," Mickey said.

"Yeah?" said Sam.

"I know you were upset about the deal last night. Just makin' sure you're on board."

"I know I got a little heated, but it was mostly just the alcohol. I'm fine, trust me."

"You sure?"

"I don't always trust your father, I'll admit that. But I trust you, Mick. And, if you say this deal's good for us, then I'll take your word for it."

"Of course it's good!" Liam boomed "Once the IRA see our merchandise for themselves, they're gonna keep on comin' back! In time, we'll be swimmin' in dough!"

"Glad to see you're confident," said Sam, "I just don't want us to lose our identity, ya know? We've always been about family, community. The IRA? All they care about is blowin' shit up."

"You underestimate them, Sammy...Oh, look, we're just about there."

Danny stopped at the entrance to the port. Mickey, Sam, and Liam exited the vehicle, leaving Danny behind to watch the car. Once inside the port, they headed for a large warehouse that Big Patty owned. The interior was filled with wooden crates, loaded with all types of contraband.

"Our friends should be meeting us soon," said Mickey, entering the facility, "They're just gonna inspect the merchandise, pay us up front, then leave, got it?"

The other men nodded.

"Good."

The three men waited around for a few minutes before their contacts arrived. Five young men entered the room, all sporting dark, buttoned-up coats, and plaid newsboy caps. Their leader was a lanky, scruffy man with dark circles under his eyes and thick stubble. He stared the three men down as he calmly placed a cigarette in his mouth and lit it.

"Welcome to America," said Mickey, "Hope the flight wasn't too…"

"Aye," said the leader, "Enough chatter. This ain't a bloody holiday. Me name's Donnelly – Jack Donnelly – And we're here on business, so let's get on with it, hm?"

"Right," said Mickey, "Liam, wheel it over!"

Liam nodded, then used a pallet jack to push a crate over to the centre of the warehouse.

"I gotta ask," began Sam, "There any relation between you two?"

"Huh?" said Jack.

"Our guy there is also named Donnelly," Mickey explained, "Liam."

Jack scoffed, "Aye, if I had a shillin' for every feller I met what shared me surname…Well, let's just say I wouldn't be in the business."

"Yeah," said Sam, "True."

After opening the crate, Jack and his men inspected the merchandise for a few minutes.

"These are some fine guns ye got there, son," said Jack.

"Thank you," said Mickey, "So, I take it you're interested?"

Without saying another word, Jack and his men drew pistols.

"Woah," said Mickey, "The fuck do you think you're…"

"Liam's been fillin' me in on your little operation," Jack explained, "And on how lucrative it's been. As of now, we're cuttin' the middleman out and takin' over."

Mickey gnashed his teeth in rage and reached for his own pistol.

"Ah-ah!" said Jack, keeping his gun trained on Mickey, "Don't do anythin' stupid now. We're givin' you a chance to work for us here."

"Guys," Liam said, "Listen to my cousin, will ya?"

"Cousin?" said Mickey, "Aw, I fuckin' knew it! You've been makin' deals with these assholes behind our backs, haven't you?"

"Sam," Liam pleaded, "You've seen it for years. Big Patty's gonna run this Family into the ground. He's too set in his ways to see the big picture. With the IRA runnin' the show, we can actually be fuckin' millionaires for a change!"

Sam rubbed his forehead and sighed.

"Sam?" said Mickey, "You're not seriously considerin'…"

"Come on," Liam continued, "We've been together for years. I mean, it sucks we're gonna have to put down your dad, Mickey, but at least the three of us can continue workin' as a team!"

"You miserable piece of shit," growled Mickey, "You really think I'm gonna let you kill my father and take this organization from under me?"

"You don't have much choice, Mick," said Liam, "It's that or you die."

Sam then walked over to Mickey and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Listen to reason, Mick!" he pleaded, "There was no way you could've expected to spend the rest of your life with the Family! It's time to move up in life and start doin' what's best for you!"

"At least one of you gets it," Liam quipped.

"Sam," said Mickey, his eyes tearing up, "You know I'll never agree to this, right?"

Sam nodded slowly, then wrapped his arm tightly around Mickey.

"Then I'm sorry old friend," he said.

However, as he embraced his friend, Sam moved in close to his ear and whispered:

"Get ready to run on my mark."

Sam then glanced over at the emergency exit at the back of the room while Mickey stared in shock.

"Alright," said Liam, "So, it looks like we're puttin' Mickey down. Too bad, old friend!"

"Fine by me," said Jack, as he and his men took aim at Mickey, "I don't give a shite either way."

"Sam, my man!" said Liam, reaching for a handshake, "I am so glad you…"

Sam smiled and shook Liam's hand, then pulled him close and wrapped his arm tightly around his throat. Sam then drew Liam's Webley from its holster and placed it against his head. Immediately, the IRA turned their weapons on Sam.

"Aw, shit!" Liam cried, "Guys, DO SOMETHIN'!"

"GO MICKEY!" yelled Sam, "HURRY!"

Mickey nodded then ran to the back of the warehouse. One of the IRA members fired a few shots in Mickey's direction but missed. The others were too distracted by Sam and Liam.

"Let 'em run," Jack taunted, "Ain't nowhere he can hide from our boys…"

As Mickey fled the warehouse, he drew his pistol and ran down across the port, hoping to make it back to the car. Unfortunately, the IRA had men stationed all along the docks. As soon as they spotted Mickey, they opened fire, forcing him to take an alternate route.

Civilian dock workers were thrown into a panic and fled the scene while Mickey took cover behind an old shed. From there, Mickey returned fire, striking some of the men, but missing others.

"Give it up, lad!" screamed one of them, "We got ye right where we want ye!"

Mickey reloaded, then sprung from behind cover while blind firing. He made his way over to the pier, where he was confronted by an IRA member wielding a pipe.

"Son of a…" he snapped.

Mickey blocked his attack by grabbing the pipe with both of his hands, then kicked the man in the shin. As he reeled over, Mickey slammed the pipe into his face, knocking him out and causing him to fall into the river. As another two men came at him, Mickey hurled the pipe at the first man, creating a distraction. Mickey then drew his pistol and finished them off.

"Somebody, stop that fucker!" yelled a man.

As Mickey sought cover behind a stack of crates, he reloaded his weapon, then listened closely as the men approached from behind. A nearby mesh bag filled with sacks of grain provided a convenient distraction that allowed Mickey to gain the upper hand. Once the men had been killed, Mickey ran from cover and entered a nearby warehouse.

"Damnit, Sam," he said, "I could sure use you right about now! Why in the hell did you…"

Suddenly, Mickey was struck from behind and as he fell to the floor, he could see a man approaching from the front, while another hovered above him.

"We got ye now, son," he whispered, "It's over…"

Mickey rolled onto his back and looked up at the man about to execute him. Fortunately, before he could pull the trigger, he was shot dead from behind. The other man was shot right after.

"What the…"

Mickey sat up and saw Sam approach.

"Sam!" said Mickey, "H-How did you make it outta there?"

"Held onto that bastard 'til I reached the exit," Sam explained, "Then made a break for it. Managed to sneak past everyone and make it here."

"Nice."

"Best part is, I found a truck we can use. Follow me!"

Sam led Mickey out a side door and onto a nearby lot where several flatbed trucks were parked.

"This one was left runnin'," said Sam, "Get in!"

Once the two men were inside, Sam put the truck in reverse and backed out of the spot.

"We gotta get back to O'Hare's," he said, "And warn your father! He's in danger!"

"Right," said Mickey.

However, shortly after slamming on the accelerator, Sam was shot behind. The bullet travelled through his throat, penetrating the window and splattering blood all over the dashboard.

"SAM!" Mickey cried.

Once the initial shock of Sam's death wore off, Mickey realized he would need to steer the truck as Sam's foot was still pressed firmly on the accelerator. Mickey reached over and grabbed the steering wheel with both hands but failed to get the vehicle under control.

After slamming through some crates and other hazards, the truck collided with the side of a building and stopped moving. Moments later, Mickey opened the side door and collapsed onto the ground, blood pouring from a wound in his head.

"Aw, fuck!" he groaned.

Several IRA members surrounded him and began kicking and stomping on him. They stepped aside as Jack arrived on the scene.

"Ye just couldn't have gone down with dignity, eh?" he said, pointing his gun to Mickey's head, "Filthy little…"

"WAIT!" Liam cried.

Jack lowered his weapon as Liam came running onto the scene.

"Don't kill him yet," Liam said in between breaths, "We need him alive for now."

"Yeah? And why's that?"

"The boys you sent into town – You know, the ones lookin' for Big Patty? – They haven't checked in with us at all. We need a Dolan to open all them safety deposit boxes and to sign over the properties they own. If we don't find dad, then junior here will have to do."

"Like hell!" Mickey spat, "I ain't signin' shit!"

"You will once we're done with ya," said Jack, "You two, get him in the car and take him to O'Hare's! The rest are with me. We're gonna scour the city and cut off all the bloody heads in this organization until everyone else falls in line, aye?"

"Aye sir," said Jack's men.

Two men attempted to pick Mickey up and wrestle him into a vehicle, but he put up a fight. One of the men placed a chloroform rag against Mickey's face, leaving him drowsy and weakened.

"Easy does it son," said one of Mickey's captors, "Bind his hands and get him in the back, yeah?"

"Right," said the other.

Once Mickey was secured in the backseat of their car, the men drove away from the port. Through hazy, blurred vision, Mickey turned his head and watched as the traitorous IRA pulled Sam's corpse from the truck. Though he was filled with murderous rage, there was little Mickey could do now but pray.