SPEC OPS: TANK

Tank?

It was around 12 am when the door had sounded. It had been like something had slammed into it. It only took you a couple seconds to wake yourself up wide eyed and in fear. Grabbing your silk robe and the baseball bat you kept at the side of your bedside table you took to the stairs.

The door slammed once more shaking you up even more when you had reached the hallway of your home.

What if it's a robber? What if it's a murderer? Am I going to die? What if it was a protester?

You had been to the protest for a couple hours that day, it was peaceful at the start, marching, chanting and overall enjoying the empowering feeling of the BLM protests. That was until the cops came. They began hurling tear gas canisters and mass shooting rubber bullets without any second thought. It was a good thing you had prepared yourself for damage like this. Carrying that heavy backpack full of supplies had payed off. The injured protesters were securely placed away from the bullets and tear gas as other protestors had picked them up and ran with them out of the fire line,  you hadn't taken a second thought in helping them. With all your supplies you managed to help around 15 to 20 people alone who were all grateful for you being there for them. There had been the few minutes when you stood at front line, a burly man who people knew as 'Tank', clad from head to toe in protective gear had been cussing at the blue pigs and had even managed to throw back a canister of tear gas that they had thrown. It was amazing.

The door had been banged at once more.
You had been shaking in fear by the time you reached the door and the bat in your hand felt heavier than before when you raised it up. You quickly opened the door with a shrill yell and closed eyes but you weren't met with a robber, or a murderer. You opened your eyes slowly and looked around, on the porch just outside your door, was the huge protester you had seen. It was Tank.  The bat you had in your hand dropped to the floor before you crouched in front of him. Thank god for the porch light that had dimly shone on the two of you. He still had his body fully covered in his gear he wore as well as the helmet and scarf around his neck.

'Tank' had clutched at his side and groaned. His helmet was still on and it seemed as though he had been roughed up.

"Hey. Can you stand?" You questioned him to which he just shook his head no. This was going to be a problem.

" ah, I'm going to help you inside okay." You spoke clearly enough before grabbing onto his arm and placing it over your shoulders. He grunted a little before clutching at the side of your arm.

"Can you use some force on your legs so that I can help you stand?" Tank nodded, bending his knees before the two of you stood up.

It took about five minutes for you to get inside safely without any further harm to Tank and he and mumbled a small thank you when he landed on your sofa.

His legs were spread and his chest was heaving up and down at a slow rate.

"Hold on , I'm going to get the first aid kit." You pointed a finger at the man and headed into your bathroom down the hall.

Your mind was running a mile a minute at why the hell this man had been outside your porch injured and why couldn't he have just gone home or the to hospital?

You squatted down looking through your bathroom cabinets searching for the kit and when you had, you stood up only to meet Tank's chest as he leant on the door frame of the bathroom.

"You we're taking too long. My injury is bleeding..." he spoke hoarsely. His voice was deep, almost seductive and God were you a slut for deep voices. Your eyes flickered down to the wet stain on his waist before asking him to sit on the toilet.

"Take off the gear and lift your shirt please." You opened up the antiseptic and dipped a cotton ball in.

He raised his hands, sliding off the vest he had before removing his helmet as well as his shirt. You stood in shock at the man.