#6. Bray’s Nuclear Sprites

(Year is 2016…1 year before the Personal Apocalypse)

'Why is it, pray tell, that Bards are always late?' asked Finn McCool. He was repetitively running a miniscule comb through his black beard – a sure sign that he was either deep in thought or thoroughly irritated. On this occasion, it was definitely the latter.

Not bothering to wait for a reply from his three companions, Finn continued to air his displeasure. 'And it's always between twenty to forty minutes late, never a minute earlier or later. It’s too coincidental, makes me think they do it on purpose…like they love making an entrance, yet not too late in case the people they’re meeting get fed up and just leave. In fact, I wouldn't be at all surprised if they were out in the hallway now, looking at their watches until that magical mark of between twenty and forty was hit. That would be a typically Bard thing to do.’ He paused combing and stared suspiciously at the door of the hotel room. ‘Idiots.'

'You're ranting, dear,' said the woman who was sitting on the opposite side of the room. Sae McCool was wearing a lovely summer dress of sky blue and had allowed her auburn hair to flow freely down her back, like a cascading waterfall of flames. She was a striking woman in her late 30s.

Finn went back to stroking his beard with his tiny comb. 'I’m fully aware of that, my love. Don't you think I know when I'm ranting? And so what if I am? A good rant is a necessity in life, otherwise we just bottle up everything that annoys us until one day…' he opened his clenched fists in a dramatic fashion whilst blowing out his cheeks. 'We just blow up.'

The youngest person in the room, just fifteen years of age, looked at Finn with a skeptical glance. Like his Dad, he was dressed in a white fitted shirt and dark skinny tie. His gray pants were also fitted and his black shoes were neat and polished. A brown duffel coat was slung over his chair. 'I'm not sure that's the most medically accurate way of describing what happens, Dad,' said Fiachra. 'A panic attack or trouble sleeping would be more likely. People very rarely simply...explode.'

Finn shook his head. 'Not correct, Fia. Instantaneous physical explosion is exactly what happens. I've seen it with my own eyes on several occasions. It's always the quiet ones too.'

Sae hid a smile with a well-positioned hand.

Fiachra was starting to frown ever so slightly. 'You’ve actually seen someone explode from pent up feelings? Like, explode into little pieces?'

Finn nodded again in a solemn fashion. 'Thousands of little pieces. Took the cleaners all day to bag and tag every bit. Gruesome business. All because there was a lack of venting.'

Fiachra eyes narrowed in suspicion. He then glanced at Sae for a second opinion. 'Mam, he's having me on again, isn't he?’

Sae just about managed to wipe the smile from her face in time. While she didn’t encourage her husband’s teasing of their eldest son, she didn’t necessarily put an end to it either. Her reasoning was that Fiachra needed to lose some of his gullibility, something that wouldn’t happen if she kept pointing out every time Finn was trying to trick him. It was also somewhat fun to join in now and again, usually to her husband’s detriment.

Sae shook her head sadly. 'I'm afraid not, Fia. It is indeed a real thing. Death by vent suppression is the official term, I think.' A thoughtful look crossed her delicate features as she switched her gaze to Finn. 'Now that you’ve brought it up, husband, it's about time I vented a few things. Just so I don't suddenly explode and ruin your lovely suit. You understand?'

Finn immediately sensed a trap. He raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. 'Oh, but of course. By all means, spill the beans. There's no room for secrets in the McCool family.' Finn also quite enjoyed when his wife decided to play along with his little deceptions, even though it usually resulted in him going from pranker to prankee.

Sae nodded slowly. 'OK, I’ll start small…I’ve been thinking for a while now that you’re a bit of an ass who spends far too much time and energy trying to confuse his own children.' Her eyes widened in wonder. 'Wow, that’s amazing. I instantly feel less combustible.'

Finn refused to rise to the bait, determined to keep the deception alive even though it was going horribly wrong. ‘Duly noted, love. So glad you’re feeling better. Thanks for sharing.'

'Your cooking is atrocious and your hair looks greasy,' added Sae instantly.

Finn's eyes narrowed. 'Again. Appreciated.'

'Also, that beard makes you look older.'

'OK, you can stop now.'

'Which contrasts horribly with those fitted pants. They really are a young man’s game.'

'Please stop.'

'That little comb is stupid too. And impractical.'

'Finished?'

Sae looked contemplative for a moment, before smiling sweetly. 'Yes. I’m all vented out.'

'You two are nowhere near as funny as you think,' said Fiachra with a sad shake of his head after eventually catching on that his parents weren't being entirely serious.

Finn gave his eldest son a wink. ‘That bodes ill for your own sense of humor so, Fia.'

Fiachra was stopped from replying by a sharp knock on the hotel door.

Finn flipped over his mobile phone which had been lying on the armrest. 'Twenty-seven minutes late. Un-bloody-believable. Idiots.'

'Go ahead, Dull, let them in,' said Sae.

The Dullahan had been standing in silence at the room door as the McCools had their fun. He was a mountain of a man, dressed entirely in black which matched his skin tone. His eyes contrasted by being noticeably pale, almost to the point of whiteness. Dull did as instructed and opened the room door.

'Dullahan,' came a severe voice from the threshold, the kind that belonged to that one teacher who all the kids were terrified of.

Dull didn't respond and instead stepped to one side.

Two men entered the hotel room. Both wore navy pinstriped suits and had fedora hats atop their heads. They were a serious looking duo with serious looking moustaches. One of the men held a briefcase in his right hand. The other, clearly the senior of the two as his moustache was far bushier, took another step towards the seated McCool family.

'Heroes Fionn mac Cumhaill and Sadhbh mac Cumhaill, it is an honor to meet you. May I present myself. I am the Agitator of the Society of Bards.’ He gestured behind him. ‘This is my protégé, the Metrist of the Society of Bards.'

Finn tried not to grimace, but a small crinkling in the corner of his eyes betrayed his best attempts. His overall dislike of Bards was increased by their strict formality, even with names. It was just another annoying Bard habit, like the whole being late shtick. Purposefully late.

'Bards,' was all Finn replied. He got a scowl from his wife.

Fiachra was also scowling, though his was aimed at everyone in the room. It had clearly not gone down well that he’d been overlooked in the Bard's welcome, though, technically, there was nothing wrong with this. Fiachra was only a Hero in Training and thus the Bards were not here to do business with him.

The Dullahan remained at the door, impassively watching in silence with his pale gaze – this was his usual contribution to any business meetings. Or get-togethers. Or family BBQs. Or indeed any situation where other beings were conversing. He was of the ultra-silent type.

'What my husband meant to say was, how was your trip? No delays I take it?' asked Sae with a glowing smile that would’ve made most men blush, and some fall in love on the spot.

'If there were no delays then they would've been here on time,' muttered Finn.

Still smiling, Sae shot her husband a look that conveyed the clear message it was time he shut his mouth.

'How our trip is an irrelevancy,' said the Agitator in a brisk manner. 'We are here now so let us get to the business of the Contract and Hunt, shall we?'

Sae’s smiled turned icy and then vanished. If there was one thing she hated, it was a lack of manners.

Finn turned a threatening laugh into a hasty clearing of his throat. 'Right you are, Bard. What have you got for us this time?'

The Agitator gave his fellow Bard a crisp nod. The Metrist swung his briefcase up onto the nearby table and entered in the combination. The lid sprang open and the Metrist withdrew two scrolls, handing one each to Finn and Sae. Fiachra mumbled something about rudeness as he dragged his chair over to his Mother's side so he could look at the scroll. He shot a glowering look at both Bards. The Agitator and the Metrist continued to ignore him.

Finn unraveled the scroll, quickly scanned its contents, and then threw it onto the bed beside his chair. He spread his hands before him and gave the Bards a quizzical look. 'Sprites? Seriously? Isn’t such a Hunt a little bit below the attention of a Hero?'

'And when my husband says a little, he actually means a whole lot,' added in Sae. She was reading the scroll more thoroughly than Finn had.

The Agitator raised an eyebrow from beneath his fedora hat. 'In your haste, Hero, perhaps you overlooked a key detail contained on the scroll.'

Finn shook his head nonchalantly. 'Doubt it. I've been doing this for many, many years. I know how to read through one of these things in a matter of seconds and pick out all the necessary details. Saves time, you see.'

'Ah, dear,' said Sae as she continued to read. 'Maybe you should take another look at the middle part.'

Finn waved this away. 'I know, I know. The Sprites have stolen something or another. Sprites are always stealing stuff, it's what they do. I don't see how that’s worth our time. Surely the Fianna can deal with it. Rounding up Sprites is their kind of thing. They love it, makes them feel important.'

'Hmm, dear, I really think you should re-read what it is they have actually stolen.'

'They have obtained a nuclear warhead, Hero,' said the Agitator in a flat voice.

Finn's eyes widened for the briefest moment and then he burst into laughter.

The Bards looked less than amused.

'I fail to see how this is a situation to induce mirth, Hero. It is a profoundly serious matter,' reproached the Agitator.

Finn wiped a tear from his eye and struggled to regain his composure. 'I beg to differ, Bard. Even if this is true, and even if we gloss over the momentous question of how Sprites – Sprites!!! – could get their hands on a nuclear device in Ireland, which is all sorts of ludicrous, there isn't a snowballs chance in hell they could ever arm it. Nadda hope. Not even a remote one. Not even if they had an actual remote for the bomb.'

‘No mention of a remote, dear, but the word detonator is mentioned a few times…in bold…and furiously underlined,' said Sae as she pointed down to the scroll. 'Right there after the bit explaining how they got the bomb.'

Finn gaped openly at his wife in astonishment.

—————

“A gang of doomsday wishing Sprites + 1 nuclear bomb + 1 remote for said bomb = UH OH PROBLEM!! The McCool family have their work cut if they’re to prevent Ireland going BOOM!! Click below for the second half of this story! And thank you for encouraging my caffeine addiction.” :)

- Aj