Revolution, Spec ops guy fanfiction

Scolded like a child

I raised my tear gassed eyes, trying to take in my surroundings. The ringing in my ears was pounding so hard i could've swore it made the ground around me shake under my scraped up palms. All i could make out in front of me was blurry fronts of people running fot their life. Well one figure wasn't moving, even though smoke was devouring him. His huge frame, seeming to stretch for 7 feet clothed in military level protection gear, bended forward to pick up the hand smoke grenades flying his directions. He grasped it in one go and sent it twirling in the police force directions. I could hear stressed calls from the other side as the man seemed to take a few steps back. His stance was in defense, ready to catch more grenades. 

"Hey girl! You gotta move", i could barely make out the slurred calls from behind when the ringing in my ears was getting worse. The man in front of me threw a look behind him to see what the fuss was about when he caught my eye. Well i suppose it was his eye, it was hard making out behind the spec ops mask over his face. Before i could open my mouth he was rushing over at me. Even if his figure seemed miles away it was right in front of me in a few steps thanks to his huge legs. "Move", the masculine voice was muffled by the mask but i could still make out the tint of annoyance. Finally i realized my surroundings. The shock and adrenaline rushed off and i could feel the pain moving similar to a fog across my slumped body. I groaned as i rasped my palms against the rough asphalt. The man made a huff as he grasped my arms in a hard grip, so hard i bet it would bruise more than the impact of the ground. "Move", he repeated through gritted teeth as he in ease lifted me up on wobbly legs. I nodded, deciding it was best to obligate him. He gave me one last glance before he let go of my arm. It was a miracle that my legs not only  did not give in, but also successfully carried me away from the scene.

 When i assumed i was safe, behind a car down the street, i slid down the wheels. I ignored the burn of the rubber on my back. I couldn't really tell if the tears moving down my red cheeks were from the cs particles inbred in my eyes or the pain of the rubber bullet shot at my back right by my spine. I supported my head on the car behind me. Fuck, i knew i should've stayed at home.

"The protests that at first was peaceful, has quickly turned into a planned attack against the police. The hoards of thugs are breaking into stores, burning down buildings and starting riots against the police force. Please help inform the authorities if you are aware of any neighbours or fellows who are taking place in the violent riot-", i rolled my eyes and turned of the TV. The media was once again doing what they do best, cherry pick. They had of course refused to inform the public of the violent and unnecessary procedures the police had taken. Given a women miscarriage, massed a child, crushed an old man's skull. The sudden wave of rage rolling through my body was used to throw the remote down at the couch. I had done the most like signed petitions, donated what i could afford, spoken out on social media and spread awareness. But i felt useless, like i wasn't doing a real change. I was watching the revolution from the shadows, quiet and invisible. I knew the danger of rioting, especially for someone who knew nothing of it. But they were out there, doing something more than rolling their thumbs. I wasn't a violent person, never been, but watching the oppression on black neighbours, friends, fellows had my head boiling. In a moment, i decided. i was going to stop rolling my thumbs, i was going to do a change. Without a second thought i started to collect necessaries like face covers and water. Then i left the house in a hurry, something i would come to regret later.

The pictures passing by my brain came in distance, like watching an old picture movie. First the ground swinging below me. then came the image of a chest pressed against my body, then came the darkening sky above me. But then i decided to close out my surroundings, the pounding headache stopping me from truly understanding my situation.

Next time my eyes were opening, well the best they could from the tear gas glueng my eyelids together, i was in a unfamiliar room. White walls, blue couch, spinning fan. Boring room. Not mine. I furrowed my eyebrows when the panic finally settled in. Where was i?

Kidnapped? possibly

I tried my best to sit up but the pain suddenly shooting down my spine made me slouch back in my previous position. I couldn't tell if the almost too soft couch under me was making the pain worse or better. "Good, your awake", a masculine voice boomed through the room. I whimpered in defeat as i realized i could hardly speak or move away from my kidnapper. "Hey! hey", the owner of the voice finally came in view "your pretty scratched up, please take it ease". The man was familiar, begging to be remembered in the back of my head. Another Second passed before i realized who stood in front of me. The man from earlier, who threw grenades back at the police. He was even more intimidating shadowing over my smaller body on the couch, still fully dressed in his protections gear. This time around, in less blurry circumstances i noticed long brown dreads stretching down the side of his front. huh

"You were the one that threw grenades at the police" my voice came out so dry i barely noticed it myself. I could see my pathetic self in the reflection of his bruised helmet. "That was me", another man stepped forward, dressed in almost identical protection as the man. This one, somehow equally tall but without dreads. I tensed up at his tone, evidence of annoyance visible behind it. "What were you thinking? huh?", he leaned down closer to be making me feel possibly shorter than before "showing up completely unprepared for a protest, no protection or gear. What did you think would happen?". It felt like i was being scolded as a child. I dropped my attention to the floor, blocking out his hard voice. I had the habit of crying when getting angry or pretty much experiencing any human emotion whatsoever. "Hey!", a softer voice from the other male "Tank, take it easy on her". Tank? What kinda fucking name was that?. I was getting noticeably angry, as i felt the tears starting to rise. Tank was right, i was stupid and reckless. I should've prepared, done my research. I was completely out of my field compared to these guys that seems like professionals. Possibly trained.

i had to get out of here, away from these guys. Away from the scolding. Despise the rush of adrenaline, the pain when i tried to stand up made me cry out. Both of the men rushed over to me as if in a shared instinct. the guy that wasn't tank reached out for my arm but i moved against the screaming of my brain. In a rushed other try i got up on wobbly legs. One step, fuck fuck fuck. Sweat coarsed down my skin from the strength every step took. But before i even had a chance of reaching the door it was covered by a huge frame. Tank. Motherfucker. Tears were prickeling from the overwhelment of everything. Pain, shame, exhaustion.

"Get out of my way", i said through teeth so gritted they were squeaking against each other. He huffed annoyed and before i knew the word of it he had literally swept me of my feet. i couldn't stop the violently rising blush from being carried bridal style by a stranger. "You're not getting away that easy", he muttered and defeated, i relaxed my body in his arms.