text: [Themes: edutainment, drama]
  
  You stay behind, sticking with Cathal Brugha and a handful of soldiers. You quickly take up your position on O'Connell street, taking shelter in an old hotel known as Hamman Hotel. The building's already in flames when you get there, but it's the best defensive position, and you're more likely to be overrun than you are to be forced out by the fire. Your role is now simple: from your barricaded position, you plan to defend from the Free State advance to give more time to the main force, especially the Anti-Treaty leaders, to escape and continue the fight. Although you might not survive, hell, will not survive, you know your death will be for Ireland.
  
  You spend what seems like eternity crouched in cover, your rifle aimed down the street as you fire at anyone who nears. Eventually, it becomes clear your mission has succeeded: the Free State soldiers have failed to push past after more than enough time for the anti-treaty leaders to escape. Thus, your mission is complete, and all you're left to do is hold out for as long as you can in what's to be your last stand.
  
  Whilst in the old days of the war, you'd be more than eager to hold out just to spite the enemy, just to kill a few more, just to resist the will of your hated foe. But that's not the case anymore. Now, you're fighting Irishmen. You recognize the faces of the enemy, the faces peeking up from cover, the faces staring down the rifle at you, Your enemy isn't some oppressive foe responsible for endless atrocities: they're your comrades.
  
  After a long wait, being pushed out by flames and gunfire, Cathal Brugha makes his decision.
  
  "You're going to surrender. They'll treat you fairly, I know they're good men."
  
  There's a moments of protesting, before Brugha holds up a hand to order them to stop.
  
  "You will follow my orders. I won't have you die for no meaning."
  
  "You... you said you," you say. "Not us. What's to happen you?"
  
  Cathal Brugha smirks half-heartedly, as if amused you picked up on that.
  
  "I'm not surrendering. I'll be shot, just like the sixteen of the rising. So I'd prefer to go out on my own terms. I'll head out there to go down fighting. You'll surrender. It's the best way forward."
  
  > follow Brugha's orders
  You pause, as everyone just keeps their head down and nods.
  
  "My men are surrendering," Cathal Brugha shouts above the din of battle. "For god's sake, don't shoot them!"
  
  "That's good," a voice calls back. "No one needs to die today. At least, no one else."
  
  "That's not entirely true," Cathal Brugha chuckles grimly. "I'm armed with a revolver, and I will not surrender to a puppet of the state we once fought against. Unlike my men, I am going to go down fighting. I repeat, my men surrender, but I do not, and am coming out, armed and ready to fight."
  
  "Cathal, for god's sake...!"
  
  "God bless Eireann!" Cathal Brugha cries out.
  
  With that, Cathal Brugha raises his revolver, stepping out from cover and opening fire. He bursts out into the street, where you hear a burst of gunfire. It stops after a moment, and you say a silent prayer for his soul.
  
  "What now?" one of the other Irregulars asks.
  
  "We follow our orders," you say..
  
  > Surrender
  Seeing no other option, you lower your gun slowly, before dropping it to the ground.
  
  "We surrender!" you call out to the Free State soldiers.
  
  "Come out with your hands up then! Any funny business and we open fire!"
  
  "We're all Irish here? Do you think we're the type to try a false surrender?"
  
  "I don't know what you'd do anymore. I never thought my fellow Irishmen, especially those of the IRA, would betray the cause."
  
  "We...!" you begin to say angrily, before realizing there's no use. "We're coming out"
  
  You move out into the open, staring right down the barrel of a rifle, as you're quickly surrounded by a group of Free State soldiers. You raise your hands, as they grab your arms, pulling them behind your back as you're forced to your knees.
  
  "Evening, gentlemen," you say with a weak, bitter smile as you're quickly dragged away, where you're blindfolded and forced to whatever fate awaits you.
  
  > Prisoner
  You're transferred to a small holding position with the others captured from the Battle of Dublin, where you're held in small cells separate from each other to prevent you from talking. You're treated relatively fairly, with three meals a day and good conditions, although the most painful fact is that you're unable to take part in the fight for true independence.
  
  You spend several months imprisoned, being moved between various holding cells rather than being sent to an actual prison. It's more boring than anything else, as you spend your days stuck in small cells, making small talk with the guards who know they shouldn't befriend you, even though you share interests, grew up close enough and fought the same enemy for most of your career as soldiers. Hell, you probably saved a few of your guards lives in the fight against the British, or they saved you. You spend most of your days in your cell, reading from the old Irish writers like W.B. Yeats, James Joyce with his new masterpiece Ulysses that's barely a year old, and your personal favorite, Oscar Wilde.
  
  However, you eventually manage to find an ally amongst the prison staff, a man you served with in the IRA against the British who isn't entirely set on the Treaty. As an old favor, he offers you a chance to decide where you're being transferred... off the books, of course. You're left with two choices. The larger Dundalk Prison, or a smaller prison in Dublin.
  
  Dundalk is the main place where Republican prisoners are being held, and being transferred there could give you a possible chance to stage a break out with the others. As well as this, it could give you some ability to network with other Republicans from across the country.
  
  However, the Dublin prison is far closer to home. You won't be able to fight, but you might still see your family, barring Joseph, although there's rumors of brutality against IRA prisoners of war in Dublin and it's surrounding areas.
  
  > Transfer to Dundalk
  Dundalk is much the same as any other prison. It's dark, it's miserable. You get to talk to a few of the other IRA prisoners, but knowing how dangerous prison time can be since their stay in Frongoch, the Free State tries hard to keep you all separated from each other. Probably a good idea. Still, it's not too miserable, and you're probably treated well. It's a boring, miserable existence, but tolerable.
  
  It's another one of those dark, miserable days, like most days in prison, where you've been left to rot in your cell, lying about it as you wait for something to happen. Daydreaming, you imagine being back at the farm, a few friends at your side as you work in the nice, sunny weather, free at last...
  
  Your daydreaming is interrupted as a guard rushes up to the cell doors, looking panicked and frantic.
  
  "You're being evacuated! We're moving you to another prison! Hands..."
  
  "What?" you interrupt, confused. "What's going on? Evacuation?"
  
  "Never you mind! Now, hands...!"
  
  "Hands in the air!" a voice from down the hallway shouts.
  
  "Shit!" the guard says, rushing to draw his pistol and nearly falling over himself.
  
  A gunshot echoes through the hallways, as the guard slumps over, sliding down the bars. You watch as a squad of IRA soldiers rushes down the hallway, rifles in hand. One of them pauses, pressing his grinning, bearded face between the cell bars.
  
  "Michael!" Joseph grins.
  
  "Joseph?" you ask. "Jesus, Joseph, what the fuck are you doing here?"
  
  "We were coming to see you, but visiting hours weren't on so we had to break in and get you out of here," Joseph smiles.
  
  Joseph moves down, grabbing the keys off the guard and quickly unlocking the cell door. You quickly move out, embracing your brother.
  
  "It's good to see you, Joseph."
  
  "It's good to see you too, Michael."
  
  "So, tell me. What the fuck's going on?" you ask.
  
  "Frank Aiken has led a huge assault of IRA soldiers to liberate the prisoners here and capture the rifles stored here," Joseph explains.
  
  "Perfect. Let's go deal with this, then," you say.
  
  With the element of surprise and numbers, the barracks is quickly taken over. Over 400 rifles are taken, with 240 Republican prisoners being released. Quickly, you move patrols out, taking the town and routing the Free State soldiers from it. Most are captured or escape off into the hills, with only a few kills. Perhaps it's because your rescuers are far more hesitant to shoot fellow Irishmen than they are British occupiers.
  
  Quickly, however, the next wave of Free State soldiers soon arrive and prepare a counter-attack to take back the town. Quickly, Frank Aiken assembles a few high-ranking IRA soldiers whose opinions he trusts, and thankfully you're one of them thanks to the fact you actually were kept in this prison and are the brother of Aiken's newest lieutenant.
  
  "We have a problem," Frank Aiken says. "The Br..."
  
  Frank Aiken pauses, almost forgetting himself. For many of you, Aiken included, it's been a hard transition to go from fighting British soldiers to former friends and comrades.
  
  "The Free State have arrived in force. They're going to attempt to push us out of the city, and we need to decide how we're going to react before they organize and attack. I need opinions. I've been considering a truce with them, to allow us to retreat with our captured weapons and freed comrade in exchange for the release of the men we captured. It seems like the most peaceful way this can end."
  
  "That's too weak. We need to hit them hard, before they have a chance to properly organize. We can strike a hard blow, and push them back with ease," one of the soldiers says.
  
  "No, we should hold down. We have the arms, we have the men, and we'll have the defensive advantage," a particularly qualified soldier named Sean F. Quinn says.
  
  "And what do the McCarthy twins think? Joseph?"
  
  "We're not twins," Joseph says, as if disliking that notion. "I don't make decisions. That's more of Michael's job. I just shoot guns and take over when we get into the kick of it."
  
  "Well, then, Michael? What's your opinion on the matter? You were a prisoner here, you deserve a say."
  
  > launch a surprise attack on the Free State Forces
  "We launch an attack. If we're to hold onto this town, we need to act quickly."
  
  "So then, if the majority of us support that, it seems like a reasonable decision. Joseph, do you stand by your brother's opinion?"
  
  Joseph nods.
  
  "Well then, we're decided. We attack. Assemble the troops."
  
  You quickly assemble the troops, preparing them for an assault. The rescued prisoners are organized into groups and armed, as you hurry to move your forces out there to eliminate the Free State soldiers before this battle can even begin.
  
  You find the Free State soldiers on the outskirts of the town, the Free State soldiers attempt to organize, setting up their long-range field guns to provide some artillery in the assault on the town, while setting up ammo reserves and first aid centers to take the wounded to. They're in no way ready for your quick, fast-paced attack and you fall upon them with gusto.
  
  However, the battle quickly turns to chaos. Without an organized plan, and the lack of fluidity in action that comes from trying to bring men from across the country into an army in such a small period of time, your IRA forces quickly break up and fall into chaos. The Free State soldiers, taken by surprise and still somewhat disorganized, are left in a desperate panic as well. This isn't helped by the fact many of you know men on the other side, leading to an unwillingness to partake in the brutality necessary to swiftly win a battle.
  
  The battle becomes a bizarre combat, as soldiers break lines and break into melees, while others retreat, try to surrender, or do anything they can in this awful attempt at combat. The battle swiftly turns to hell, as you're left desperately trying to organize something, anything, out of the miserable chaos of the battle.
  
  In the general chaos are both forces try to organize, a Free State rifleman manages to get a clear shot at one of the IRA leaders desperately trying to organize their men. He raises his rifle, staring down the iron sights as he lets out a quiet prayer for the soul he's about to send to God, before finally pulling the trigger.
  
  The shot bursts straight through your chest, as you stumble forward for a meek few steps. You let out a pained gasp for air, before your strength is sapped and your legs give way, and you collapse to the ground, death quickly taking you.