The Authority, no man under six foot two, biceps bigger than watermelons and brains as small as peanuts. “Colonel, there’s a squad of around 200 soldiers heading South towards the Square. Over”

“Copy that soldier. Begin your assault. Over”

The Resistance, small ordinary men, mostly farmers with little to no fighting experience began to tread carefully through the trees step by step inching their way closer and closer to the squad. Outnumbered two to one. The Resistance were striving on belief and courage. Stealth was their only hope. Led by Colonel Seamus Beckett the 1985 100 metre sprint Olympic champion. In his late 50s, he still had the legs.

When they were within shooting range they stopped.

Suddenly, “bang!” – a soldier from the Resistance had accidently pulled his trigger and alerted the squad. The Resistance dropped to the ground, flat on their stomach, patrolling the squad’s every move. Sean Fennelly then slowly raised his rifle and aimed for the squad General from the long grass. Then “bang!” the leader of the squad drops to the ground. “Fire!” cried Seamus. Then the squad spotted them, but it was too late. The men began to drop like flies from the constant bombardment of bullets from the Resistance.  Every man dead. Swiftly, the Resistance undressed The Authority and put on their uniform. It didn’t matter that they were four sized too big, this was the disguise, the genius, Seamus.

The Resistance, marching, chests out towards the Square, were met by these huge metal gates guarded by a portcullis. Recognised as allies by the guards in the watchtower, they gave the signal for the gates to be opened. The Resistance, fifty men, had defied all odds and had broken in to the Square, where The Authority headquarters belonged. The Authority carried three grenades per body. Seamus ordered that every soldier was to position themselves at the base of the headquarters.

When the clock tower struck 12 o’clock (1 minute) they were to throw their grenades in to the base of the  building. Cunning as can be, the plans of dreams, or was it? Private Caoimhine Hayes, riddled with anxiety, was acting up in the middle of the Square. Guards wandered over to see what was up.

“Ha ha ha ha  look at this scrawny little fella, how did they pick you?” Caoimhine got pissed off.

“You’re gonna lose.” he said softly.

“What are you talking about, soldier?” the guard shouted. Then the clock struck 12 and Caoimhine pulled the pin.

“Oh shit” the guard bellowed. He shot Caoimhine dead and then screamed “Get down!”

Pandemonium broke loose. Suddenly the Resistance were being shot dead all around the Square, then there were 5 seconds of silence, and then, boom. The buildings began to collapse. Seamus whipped out his walkie talkie.

“General Howard. We have done it. Send reinforcements right now. We don’t have much time until -”

“Until what, soldier?  Seamus? Do you copy? Over. Seamus!”

*50 years later*

Jenny was just setting the table when the doorbell rang. She opened the door and was met by her two grandkids, Emily and James.

“Hi nana!” they shouted and ran into the house. Their Mam and Dad followed afterwards. At the dinner table they were talking about family. Jenny was telling Emily and James about all the fun times she had with her son and their Dad. There was laughter and joking and then silence. James then said,

“Dad, where is your Dad?”

He looked at Jenny and smiled. “My Dad, your Grandad, was and still is, a hero”.

He then looked over to the picture of Seamus hanging proudly on the wall. He had brought peace to the world and was his superhero.