Sinead sighed a bit wearily as she locked the door to the schoolroom behind her, looking up and down the street as she shifted her heavy bag on her shoulder. Tig was usually home by the time she left for the day, but he hadn't come yet. Oh well, probably something kept him late at work. He'd be fine. Shrugging mentally, she headed on down the street, but still kept an eye out for his truck. Enough of an eye out, that she didn't notice the dark shadows separating from the walls of the alley she was passing. The first thing she knew of them was when the pain creased the side of her head. Dazed, but not knocked out, Sinead felt herself being dragged into the cool darkness of the alley. She was groaning, trying to get her wits back about her, until she felt their paws going up her legs. Immediate panic swamped her and the adrenaline brought her around more. She cursed and kicked at the hands, immediately trying to fight back and swing her bag at them. She didn't have time to try and go for the gun hidden at the bottom of it. "Oh, a feisty Mick, eh? Always wanted some good Irish fuckin' luck!" The words made her blood run cold, and she spit and bit at the first hand that came towards her. All that got her, though, was a good beating about the head and stomach until she hardly felt them anymore. She heard someone screaming. Was it her? Another strike to her mouth told her it was. She kept screaming. It was almost dinner hour, so the street traffic was sparse, but maybe someone would come and help her. If someone didn't come, it just made her sick to think what might happen to her.