Ensconce

Chapter 3: Girlfriend's Hoodie

The moon was almost full and round again. It had shone up earlier today than it had the previous cycle. A gust of wind came from the east, its origin, a storm in its own right was sucking in the nearby clouds, holding them hostage from the expanse of the twilight sky. Apart from the moon, the approaching storm and the dismal rays of sun, all was clear and quiet high above the city activity below. A mile away the clock tower began to clang. 6 o'clock. It is time. No more thoughts, no more fears or hesitations. Only then would it be easy to fall off the side of the building. A running start did not make a difference, the air slapped at any exposed skin. The biting cold was not merciful. 

Falling was about letting go rather than tensing up, there was no possible way to have control. Having good form helped though. The banner had been reinforced to be take the weight of a human, along the sides were adhesive strips to stick to the windows. While falling, the fireworks started; streaking the skies in reds and whites, then the flares were lit, one for every protestor, one in every pair of hands. Closer to the ground, the chants got louder.

 Hitting the mark, the release was deployed. A shorter fall to the inflatable mattress tower that stood at the foot of the Justice Department at the main plaza. A united scream tore through the plaza. People poked their heads out from their office buildings and store fronts, other citizens  kept their backs to the edges of the plaza, watching and waiting to be dazzled by another spectacle and when the moment would arise, it was their job to keep the police at bay. 

The banner was unfurled. The people were chanting. The fireworks kept going up, leaping higher into the sky. The clanging of pots and pans spurred forward the rhythm of the night. Drummers leapt down from the gazebo at the center of the plaza, their drumbeats were full and determined, each measure more resolute and quicker than the last. Their eyes were trained on their conductor, who now gave them the symbol, throwing a handful of red powder in the air, they catapulted off the mattress tower onto a springboard and began the charge. The path had been chosen ahead of time: as the conductor ran and somersaulted through the path, the followers shoved buckets of a thick red paint-like substance onto the streets to prevent anyone from chasing directly behind the conductor. 

The deep red scarlet oozed onto the sidewalk, like a gruesome murder scene, devastating public property. Creating confusion, the red powder was now thrown from all angles by both protestors and bystanders alike, people's identities were now masked by the red. The cloud of red made the protestors and the citizens indiscernible. The sirens and whistles started to sound. Nearby security guards from the local government's office and the Justice Department stumbled through the people trying to get a visual of their leader. The 'ordinary' people linked their arms to make a barrier and protect the protestors. A guard with a baton ripped a woman from the barrier and forced her to her knees. Seeing this the others began the second phase of their defense. The strongest fought back to have her released while the others whipped out their personal phones and went live on social media. Their footage was picked up by a friendly techie that lived not far from the main plaza; they hacked into local news and other popular channels to project the live coverage. Someone was able to break into the clocktower that was one street over, ringing the bells like they were casting out demons in an apocalypse. 

A shrill, prompt whistle signaled the release of the final act. The leader leapt and cartwheeled just out of reach of the police and vaulted up onto the gazebo just in time for protestors that had snuck into the Domain building, to pour down from every other floor, gallons upon gallons of red liquid. Hoses spewed the red, it surged and bloomed down every surface, staining the glass 40 foot skyscraper. The mayor and the council watched in fear from the nearby Justice building, clustered together in a courtroom, immobile and peering over the windowsill. 

The police were now on the scene, beating on anyone who stood in their way, the ordinary citizen was now the enemy and their leader was public enemy number 1.