THE BOY UNDER THE MASK: Barron Trump x Reader

Chapter One: The Protest

 You'd been marching for what felt like hours. Your arms ached from carrying your sign, a simple cardboard one that you'd written "Black Lives Matter" on. The sun bore down on the crowd relentlessly; though you were surrounded by thousands of people, you still felt alone. None of your friends had felt comfortable coming to the protest due to coronavirus, which you completely understood. However, your lack of friends made you feel vulnerable. Exposed.

Continuing to walk on, you chanted with the crowd, ceasing your cries only to wipe the occasional bead of sweat off your forehead or take a quick sip of your water. Though you were overheated and exhausted, the reason for your march gave you energy. Feeling hopeful for change, you moved on, snaking down the streets of the city. Finally, you saw them.

You weren't sure when you'd gotten so close to the front of the crowd. You now found yourself just feet in front of a barrier of cops, completely exposed.

Where did everyone else go? Where's my cover?

Your heart began to race as numerous possibilities and outcomes flooded through your head. At best, you could just be met with some tear gas or some light shoving. At worst, rubber bullets or even real ones. You gulped, unsure of what to do.

I have to stand my ground. My discomfort now is nothing compared to the struggles of George Floyd or Breonna Taylor.

You straightened yourself, staring into the visor that covered the police officer's eyes in front of you. Your own reflection stared back, your face showing no sign of distress. Suddenly, a movement in the reflected crowd caught your eye. You whirled around, your eyes settling upon a tall, armored soldier moving his way towards you. He was covered head-to-toe in special-ops gear, a helmet disguising his face. He was ridiculously tall, too-- probably around 6'6". You stood agape as he gently brushed past you, protectively putting an arm out in front of you.

"It's okay. They won't lay a finger on you as long as I'm here." He said to you, his voice completely monotone. You couldn't speak; you managed a nod back, instantly feeling relieved by his presence. He stood as a shield between you and the police, keeping you safe from whatever harm they wished to inflict upon you and the crowd.

"Why are you helping me? Who are you?" You mustered, hoping to find the identity of your savior.

He chuckled, turning his helmet-clad head towards you. "I'm helping you because it's my duty as an ANTIFA super soldier, and I'm afraid that last question is classified."

"Oh." Was all you could muster out, feeling your cheeks burn.

I'm such an idiot!! Of course he can't tell me who he is, why else would he wear a mask?

Your thoughts were interrupted when another armored soldier stepped up beside you. Though he was a bit shorter than the first soldier, he was just as intimidating. He moved closer to the man who had saved you and murmured something incoherent in his ear. The first soldier lowered his guard protecting you from the police officers and turned to face you.

"You need to get out of here," He began, gripping your shoulders. "The sun's about to set, and according to our intel, things are about to get nasty." You nodded hastily, beginning to move back into the crowd. Suddenly, you stopped.

"Hey!" You cried, getting his attention. "Thank you. If you ever need help or anything, please call me." You handed him a slip of paper with your number haphazardly scribbled on it. "I'm a resident doctor at the nearby hospital. I'd be happy to help any of you if you needed treatment. It's the least I can do; thank you for saving me." He took the paper from you, sparing it only a moment's glance before pocketing it.

"Thank you." He replied, turning his attention back to the officers and his fellow soldier. You took that as your cue to leave, weaving your way through your fellow protestors. Some had heard the news of violence and had decided to leave as well, making your path out a bit easier. After thirty minutes of walking, you finally reached your car and collapsed inside. You drove off to your apartment, your brain mulling over who exactly the armored man had been.