Killmonger's One-Shot Collection

The Bigger Picture

An imagine requested on Tumblr.

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I CAN'T BREATHE.

I CAN'T BREATHE.

I CAN'T BREATHE.

The chants rang through the air piercing the veil of normalcy and forgetfulness. Today was a day when people in the city would be forced to remember. Disrupted was their casual day as usual. Like the lives of so many people of color, specifically black people were interrupted. Those people didn't get a chance to go back to work or pick up their dry cleaning or their kids. They couldn't go to school or to the park or pump gas anymore. Who would be next?

CHANGE!

JUSTICE!

CHANGE!

JUSTICE!

The protest was picked up on MSNBC along with social networking. People not in attendance were staying away from downtown, away from the traffic and the unpredictable police.

"These kids carrying the torch. Some of us done got too old and out of shape," Steve spoke moving the marble rook on the board. He had a cold beer that he sipped. "Remember when it was us out there? Marching with signs."

"I remember the oldheads marching.. then us marching and it not doing a damn thing which is why we still marching today.. I'm sick of marching. We need equality. Equal heads bashed. You take my king, I take yours," I say knocking over his king. "That's the only way shit gets solved."

"That military ain't left you yet? You still talking like Marcus."

"Marcus. That nigga we called Marcus Garvey," I laugh remembering. Too bad he died. "Marcus.. Yeah, he had a point though! Tell me I'm wrong."

"You ain't wrong, you just past your prime. You tried the shit now it's on the youngins to try it. They ain't scared of nothin.. plus we getting old."

"Nigga we in our late 40s. You ain't old, you just fat," I laugh watching him look around like I ain't talking to him. Like he ain't just eat half a pizza alone.

"Look I can't help that I like what I....."

"What," I follow his stare to the TV screen. I can hear my heart beating. Suddenly I don't feel like Chess no more.

"Is that Imani?"

I jump up because hell yeah it's Imani with face paint, a mic stuck in her face, and a BLM shirt talking about the protest her lil ass started on campus. It was the whole Clark Atlanta out that bitch. No wonder they all looked like kids!

"Ah shit, that's Andre," he mutters the same time I see our younger son out there holding a sign next to his big sister.

"Let's go!"

Steve is up with his beer and right behind me halfway out the door.

"ERIK," Shamidi yells from upstairs so loud it's like she's next to me. "GO GET THEM! BRING ME MY BABIES, NOW!!!"

I shut the door and hop in the car with Steve gassin it into the city and toward the school before something bad happens. If she'd have been in a different state I don't know what me or her mother would've done. That's why Shamidi wanted her here and turned out she was right.. Not me.

I'd have had to catch a flight if Imani had gone to Dillard like she originally wanted.

The cops are out and harassing protesters like always. We move through it, me and Steve.

In the thick of the protest we can't go on any further by car if we want to find Imani and Andre. We pullover and take our masks from the backseat, our guns concealed and on us.

The cops are making arrests, grabbing up and throwing kids around with excessive force. We can't stop for every kid though.

Something gets thrown and experience tells us not to fuck around and find out. We don't investigate gas cans and flying objects, we just keep walking following the fearless voice on the megaphone.

In Georgia baby? The south?

Imani was bold that was for sure. I remember when she was little getting bullied by white kids. Too crushed to go to school. Now look at her.

Got Andre grown ass up here too and he ain't none but 16.

"This shit never changes," I tell Steve over my shoulder while we're wedged between protestors yelling

WE CAN'T BREATHE!

WE CAN'T BREATHE!

CHANGE!

JUSTICE!

WE CAN'T BREATHE!

Shit..

We walk a good mile moving up through the people and before we can reach the front we hear a struggle break out.

I take off, pushing people out my way.

"IMANI! IMANI!"

She looks my way as she's detained and getting pat down, eyes growing huge while her wrists are cuffed behind her tightly by an officer, my son beside her still chanting loudly and nonstop as he's pulled along.

"DADDY!"

"Officer.." I stop a few feet away memorizing badges as I approach slowly removing my gas mask. "I'm the father of these two, if you let em go I'll take them home! They kids! College kids just learning about shit!"

"DADDY LOOK WHAT I DID," Imani yells to me, tearing me up inside though she's smiling, genuinely proud of herself.

Andre's still chanting like he think he Braveheart.

"You can pick em up at the city jail," the one holding onto Imani pulls her along roughly without emotion.

"DON'T BE SCARED DADDY, IT'S OKAY!" She's not resisting but they're still aggressive triggering me. "NO," She yells reading my mind as I think of going to jail with them. "THIS IS OUR PROTEST! JUST KEEP MOM FROM FREAKING OUT! WE KNOW OUR RIGHTS!"

"DON'T ANSWER NOTHING, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT TILL I CAN GET TO YOU!"

"WE KNOW," both kids yell.

I sigh, knowing our next move but worrying for my fuckin knucklehead children who are too brave and stubborn for their own good.

"I better not see a SCRATCH on them," I point to the officers left after the other two have scuffled my kids into police cars. They don't know bout me. "Not a SCRATCH."

Their mother ain't gone like this.