After a moment, Steve peered out. The wet cobblestones of the lower High Street glistened in the morning light. The coast was clear. Looking back, the man was coming to, but mumbling incoherently. The other bloodied man seemed steadier on his feet. With the weight back on Steve’s shoulder, they ran across the High Street, through a walkway and clear of the riot. Steve saw them both safely home and slipped away.
Gronk remained inside a Destructor at the station and watched out of a window. He felt safe, although everything seemed a bit hairy outside, what with the fighting and shouting. It was a relief to have steel between him and the baying commuters when it turned ugly. Anyway, he thought it served them right for landing well paid jobs in SmogCity while he financially floundered in a local job. He scanned the crowd for trouble-makers. Where’s that Nobody? I’d like to order the first arrest.
After the crowd had been dispersed, Gronk’s inner circle took a tally of Pinkshirt injuries. Most had kept in tight formation, just like they practiced, so only minor cuts and bruises were suffered to most. However, one Pinkshirt had disobeyed orders, which was a lesson to them all. He had been spotted running toward some rioters, but no one saw how he got injured. He was knocked out about half-way down the hill and needed medical attention. Without witnesses to the assault, direct recriminations against the assailant were not possible. Gronk noted Steve Nobody had not been spotted anywhere near the riot. Where is the humdrum little man? With an elusive enemy and an injured Pinkshirt, Gronk squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.
Copyright © 2024 Callum Stanford. All rights reserved.
Very good Callum
Thanks !!