THIS. IS. WAR. (specops/anon X reader)

1- The Beginning Of The End

!!TW!! BLOOD/SHOOTING/VIOLENCE

Hey Y'all!!

I absolutely needed to hop on the bandwagon for this.. I mean I've seen the ones for anonymous and for special ops.. Why not both ;)

SooOOOOOo here's the story, hope y'all like it :P

*Please correct me if i'm wrong about anything!!*

Riots.

"A riot is the language of the unheard" -Dr. Martin Luther King.

I sure felt like I was unheard, my throat burning, begging me to rest as I screamed, "HANDS UP, DONT SHOOT!" Into the pig's faces. The man in riot gear stared at me through his shield, gawking as if I was speaking a different language. His cold grey eyes were piercing, chilling me to the bone. His face showed no emotion. This only fueled my anger. My voice became ragged as I screamed louder with my people, my family.

"I CANT BREATHE. I CANT BREATHE. I CANT BREATHE."

Our voices merged together into one powerful chant. Some police gazed at one another, giving each other concerning looks. Looks of fear.

I laughed in their faces. Let them be afraid of us, for our voices will shout them apart, limb by limb, until they bleed out from our chants.

The voice in the back of my head laughed along with me. "Yes.." it spoke. "Say their names," It whispered. Images of innocent, beautiful black men, women, and children flashed through my mind, their chocolate skin shining in the golden sunlight. I quickly was filled with rage. How could one simply take away such a beautiful life?

I opened my mouth again, my throat red and raw. I started the chant softly, practically whispering at first. I stared directly into the eyes of the pigs as I spoke.

"Say their names," I spoke, my voice laced with the poison of those who were beaten, those who were killed. Those who will never see the light of day because of these bastards.

"George Floyd." The man didn't move.

"Breonna Taylor." Still no movement.

"Ahmaud Arbery." He stood like a rock.

I felt my throat closing up as tears prickled my eyes. How could one be so insensitive? How? My head screamed at me now. "LOUDER." It said. I forced the tears away and thrusted my fist in the air. I was screaming now, my sudden energy shocking the man in front of me.

"TAMIR RICE," I screamed in his face. He glanced around at his other officers, looking for something. I paid no attention.

"TRAYVON MARTIN, OSCAR GRANT, ERIC GARNER," The man's face went pale as he gulped.

"PHILANDO CASTILE, SAMUEL DUBOSE, SANDRA BLAND," My voice was running out of power. I could feel my vocal cords on the last string. Tears sprung to my eyes in response to the pain. I must carry on. I say to myself. I must be heard.

"TERRENCE CRUTCHER," I moved closer to the officer, my face inches from his.

"WALTER SCOTT." I spat in his face. He laughed at me, smirked as he wiped the spit off. "Now I can have some fun.." He whispered as he nodded his head to the cops standing next to him. They nodded back, retreating behind the line of cops. Other cops took notice and started backing up, shaking out their arms as if they were preparing to throw something. Some reached into their cars, pulling out long black objects. I squinted to see the outline of a trigger. My eyes widened.

My breathing hitched as I realized what was happening. I turned around to face the crowd of angry people cheering and shouting "Get out of here!" and "Leave, pigs!". Men and women, all cheering victoriously together. They thought they were leaving, retreating to their filthy mud pits. No, no. This can't be happening. My people. My family. They are in danger. I opened my dry mouth once more to scream as loud as I could. "GO! RUN! THEY'RE GOING TO SHOO-" my shout was cut short as a loud bang came from behind me.