Post by malgoesboom on Dec 18, 2012 17:05:13 GMT -5
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[style=width:350px; font-family: josefin sans; font-size: 30px; letter-spacing: 0px; text-align:center; color: #000; line-height: 80%; text-transform: uppercase; padding-bottom: 5px;]MALACHY DECLAN SULLIVAN
CRIMINAL . LIVY. MICHAEL JAGMIN. ARMS DEALER. 23. QUIET. INTELGENT. AMBITIOUS.
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,386,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, width:130px; height: 200px; background-image: url(http://i48.tinypic.com/2e337td.jpg);][/style] | [style=height: 180px; overflow: auto; font-size: 9px;] Two became Four Mrs. and Mr. Sullivan were surprised thirty minutes after the birth of their beautiful daughter Molly, by the birth of their son Malachy. They weren’t expecting twins and they thought that it was a blessing handed straight down from God. Only he brought along a curse as well, excessive hemorrhaging destroyed their hopes of a large family. Never was it blamed overtly on him but there was always an under shadowing of blame. Malachy and Molly were not a like at all even from birth, they were like opposites in everything they did and yet inseparable. Born on the summer solstice their parents joked that Molly was warm and inviting as the summer and Malachy as cold and hard to reach as winter. Where you go I go They’re lives began and futures were shaped in the poor Catholic sections of Belfast North Ireland. Behind peace walls and barbed wire they learned to ride bikes, made friends and grew up. Forever side by side through thick and thin, best friends above all. They were like every other set of twins you would imagine, though so different they had their own language, their own looks that said the world with one glance. When Malachy fell and got hurt on a day out with their father, when Molly was home with their mother, she cried for no reason and drove her mother crazy with worry. In primary school the twins drove their teachers mental. They didn’t have the tricks up their sleeves that identical twins might, but they were forever doing each other’s work. Malachy was good at most things, but Molly lagged. He would do her math and science coursework and let her do his literature and history, not because he needed the help but because she needed to be able to help. And there ain't no place in Belfast for that kid to go While Molly grew interested in boys and the whims of other girls she began to leave her brother behind. For once she excelled where he did not, socially he couldn’t keep up with the other children. All the while uncle was tailoring him to be a killer, an integral part of the Army. Molly got a boyfriend, Malachy got his first gun and became quite the marksmen. His mother protested though and she insisted that any child of hers was going to maintain as much normalcy as possible and in this skewed world they lived in. So alongside his training with his uncle and his uncle’s friends he continued to attend school and score well enough to continue onto sixth form. It was there that life both feel apart for Malachy and he found his calling, a subject that didn’t just get boring and get done but one that excited him and one that excited his uncle too. A member of their cause with a degree in chemistry and a predisposition for explosives could be very helpful. Two become one. It was a cold night right before the two were about to sit their A levels. Malachy had only just gotten home from a trip where had pledged his loyalty and life to the IRA. He rushed home to tell Molly all about it, yes it was a secret but between the twins there were no secrets. When he entered their home though, there was no one home, the windows broken out, police tape securing the door. The hit hadn’t been specific just a loyalist attack on a neighborhood known to be that of those who supported the IRA. Many lives were lost but the only one that mattered to Malachy was that of his Twin. His parents were spared by already having been up in bed for the night, but Molly who’d been out with her friends had only just returned home when the bullets began to fly. I learned to live half alive Revenge was all that Malachy could think of, blood for blood. He fought long and hard for that. He wanted to dissolve into nothingness, take his own life. To run and hide but his uncle who didn’t morn so much for the loss of his niece would not give up on the boy he’d put so much into training. He pushed him hard, he plied him with alcohol and Xanax to get him through his texts and then the first semester of University. After that Malachy took it on himself to live in this world where everything felt wrong. His other half was missing and there was no way to numb that pain. He got his revenge eventually, the men who hurt his sister, were not that hard to track down but he took his time for the pain that they’d felt and that was the first blood that he spilled. Each one died slow and painfully and it didn’t ease any of the hurt of fill that gaping hole where his other half had been. He had hoped it would help and ignored all advice otherwise but there was no turning back now this was the new him. We are the few, who carry the broken Malachy decided that instead of ending his life, which would be the easy way out, he would pour his whole life into fighting for the one thing left to believe in, freedom from the oppressors who destroyed his family, who made his life the way it was. He graduated from university top of his class, he didn’t have any need for the degree though, not looking from a job in the working world. He was already quickly moving up through the underworld. His ambition unstoppable his skill right up there with those who had been doing this for years. His goal is never to get rich though unlike so many in the underworld. He instead whole heartedly believed that everything he did was for the Cause, for the Army because that was how he justified the horrible things that he did, the lives he took and the lives that were lost because he sold weapons to shady people. Shipping off to Boston When there was word through the grapevine that his services would be better used in America he packed up and headed across the Atlantic. He had nothing to keep him in Belfast and nothing but possibility in the war torn city. He’s set up shop so to speak in the Boston where for enough money he can get you anything from a hand gun or something that goes boom. Even if you have enough he could probably even track down you something more suited or biological warfare or nuclear. |
