"Shamrock" or Patrick McCree is a character created by Zach Betz in 2009. The information below has been provided by the creator with contributions by friends. The author wants it known that the characters in depicted in the stories of Shamrock are in no way real or based upon any actual persons. Oh and drink responsibly.
Patrick McCree was tired of being told he had made nothing of his life. He thought working in a bar was a respectable living that was enjoyable and decent. There were worst things you could do to stay afloat in Cork, and there was a decent view of these “bad things” from behind a bar. Night after night he saw people he knew to stay clear of. He knew their “type.” If a tussle broke out in the bar he would break it up and give out free drinks to calm everyone down, otherwise he stayed out of it.
One night Patrick was pouring a drink for one of his regulars Annie. She was a cute girl and boy was she putting the charm on him.
“Keep yer head straigh’ McCree…” he thought to himself. There was a lot of customers this night and he didn’t want to lose his pace. Falling behind in a bar is like confessing to a crime you haven’t committed. Everyone gets confused and angry at you.
An old man came into the bar and sat at an open stool. Patrick couldn’t see his face but the man’s posture and walk was that of a man who had seen plenty of winters. The stool he chose was empty on purpose. Everyone knew that was Burr’s seat. Burr was one of those “bad types.” A debt collector who was very good at his job, except for the fact that he collected debt from people who owed none. Patrick went to tell the old man he may want to consider standing but as he got near he noticed the scars on the man’s hands and face. He looked like he had been through hell about a thousand times and didn’t give a damn anymore.
“Ah Christ..” Patrick whispered under his breath. “Ta hell wit’ this. This man don’t look like he needs ta be tol’ nothin’ and I reckon’ I’m not gonna try it.”
Just when Patrick was going to ask him what he wanted to drink, as if on cue, Burr crashed through the door. He was laughing with some of his constituents when he noticed the old man. He looked angry as if he had no sympathy for his elders. He marched right up to the man and simply said “Move.”
The old man said nothing.
“Ya hear me? I was speakin’ clearly. Move.”
The old man spoke without moving a single muscle. “No.”
Burr pulled the stool out from under him and the old man fell to the floor. He lifted the stool above his head about to bring it crashing down upon him when suddenly there was glass and blood everywhere.
Patrick had smashed two bottles of whisky into the sides of Burr’s head. The glass shattered cutting Burr’s face to shreds before he collapsed on the ground. His so called friends ran out in a state of panic just like the rest of the bar.
Patrick jumped over the counter mumbling “Bloody mess..” to himself to see if the old man was okay.
“How ye feelin’?”
The old man looked at him with the brightest greenest eyes Patrick had ever seen. He reached out a hand to him and as he took it the man suddenly turned to dust.
Patrick stood there with his hand outstretched for a good while looking at the pile of dust before him. He was in shock, frozen to the spot. He called the police to arrest Burr and then left thinking perhaps he had imagined the whole dust incident thinking maybe the old man had left amongst the chaos.
He swore at himself for striking out at Burr knowing that Burr was connected. He struck his fist against the wall of an old building and suddenly the ground shook beneath him….
Patrick was beyond confused…. with no idea what was in store for him after his first heroic act.