Riot

With canister in hand, smoke trailed off its end. He came here for a reason. He didn't know why everyone else was here, but he was here for carnage. He hated the government, and he wanted to show it.

Black mask wrapped around his face to hide his identity, he gave the canister a good hard toss.

The metal smacked against the plastic shields of the local tyrannical state pigs. A loud pop and everything started.

Like the sea, a wave splashed against the line of blue blocking the rest of the march. Clubs came out. Swings of retaliation. Fists brusied and bloody.

Next came the hoses. Powerful bursts of water whaffed about the back half of the crowd. God-forbid if they hit any state officers. Pick off the weaklings in the back to make sure.

Flashes of light and screams.

The next level had started and he could feel his hands shake. From fear or anticipation, he didn't know. He just knew that this was his chance.

A newly bought glock lay flat on his back taut against his pants bought from a local 'friend'.

At the front away from the streaks of pressurized water, he reached around.

Grasping onto his purpose, he strode forward.

Flicking off the safety, he pushed back on the hammer readying.

Looking for his mark, he saw a man in blue outfitted in all of the latest gear strike out towards one of the protestors.

Aiming, he fired.

Ringing in his ears, he couldn't believe he had actually done it. He had done what he had been planning for weeks. Now, he had more to do.

A loud bang swept out across the street. A new one, different than what he had caused.

It was colder than he remembered. His mouth was dry. And his stomach hurt.

Looking down, the hand that he wrapped around his aching stomach was drowned in crimson. Oh... he had been shot.

Realization had donned on him. However, he could only think of one thing.

God, he hated cops.

And he fell into darkness.