It was around 2 a.m. when your phone rang. You groggily pulled yourself out of bed, grabbing your phone off of your nightstand. The number was unknown.
What on earth? Who is this, and why would they be calling me so late at night?
Then you remembered. Could it be the armored man? You pressed your screen to answer, bringing your phone up to your ear.
"Hey! I hope this is the number of the doctor from the rally. I--" The voice cut off for a moment, and you could hear screams and chaos in the background. "I need your help. The man who stepped in today to help you, Tank, just got injured. If we go to an actual hospital, we risk his identity being exposed. We own a loft about five minutes from downtown, can you meet us there? I'll send you the address. Please bring any supplies you have, he's bleeding heavily."
You sat motionless for a moment, taking in the information. "Yes-- I'll be there in ten." You finally responded, pulling yourself out of your comfy, warm bed. The man on the other end hung up, and moments later your phone pinged from a text with the address. From the looks of it, it wasn't too far from your apartment at all.
The faster I get there, the more suffering I can spare him. I need to hurry.
You quickly moved around your room, gathering your first-aid kit and some gauze from your bathroom. Without bothering to put on real clothes, you hurried out your door and got into your car. In just a few minutes, you found yourself at the location-- a rather suspicious looking industrial building.
They were pretty interesting dudes. I guess I shouldn't be surprised.
Before you could text the number and tell them that you were there, the door of the warehouse opened. The shorter soldier with dreadlocks motioned you inside, making sure to survey the outside surroundings as he let you in.
"This way," He told you, leading you down the damp hallways. "He's still conscious, but I'm not sure for how much longer. There's a bullet in his shoulder." The man led you into a dark room, and your eyes fell upon Tank, his body crumpled up in the center.
"Can you turn a light on, please?" You asked, trying to keep your voice level. "I need to actually be able to see what I'm doing."
"I'll go grab one." With that, the soldier dashed off, leaving you and Tank alone. You knelt down beside him, positioning his body so he lay flat. You noticed his helmet was off, but you decided not to directly look as to avoid invading his privacy. You heard footsteps as the other man came back, carrying a construction light.
"Here. This should be good." With a flick, the light kicked on.
"Dude, what the hell? That's so bright!" Tank wheezed, drawing your attention back to him. You couldn't help but gasp as you saw the face in front of you. You hadn't meant to look, but you couldn't help yourself. Lying in front of you was none other than Barron Trump, the youngest son of President Trump.
YOU ARE READING
THE BOY UNDER THE MASK: Barron Trump x Reader
RomanceGoing to your first protest was terrifying, especially since the police like to get a bit too close for your liking. Luckily, a tall man in black armor steps in between you and the police, easing your nerves. Who was this mysterious man? And why did...
