We Salute You In Your Grave
Eight.
No Point of View.
The tanks were massive, and odd-looking; white, a pure white, with four navy blue letters on the side: S. C. I. Y.
The enormous machines came to a halt in front of the riled-up crowd of teens, and a man jumped out with an armed soldier at his side. He seemed oddly aged--frail-looking, wrinkled, with snowy white hair greased back into a long ponytail. He wore a simple black t-shirt, tightly hugging the muscles and six-pack a man his age shouldn't have, and some army fatigue pants with the bottoms tucked into his well-worn combat boots. A pair of mirrored sunglasses were on the bridge of his nose, and with one hand he held a plain black umbrella.
In the other hand, he held a loudspeaker.
"Children," His fierce but aged voice boomed, "The day has come. A new era will begin in these streets, either paved with the stones they originated from, or with the bodies of you who resist. Will you join us?"
There was a long, bewildered pause from the teenagers.
Meanwhile, more troops hopped out of the tanks--armed with automatic rifles, neatly standing in line.
"Once more, children...will you join us?"
This time, the crowd responded. There was a loud roar of "HELL NO!"'s, and shouts of "You'll never take me alive!"
There were glass bottles thrown, and spit flew freely...but all the while, the soldiers and the man held their ground and kept their composure.
Then the adolescent mob gradually fell silent, seeing no response.
"Very well," the old man sighed in disappointment. "Aim!" he shouted, the soldiers kneeling with their fingers on the trigger.
Immediately, the crowd rapidly started dispersing in the opposite direction.
"FIRE!"
And with that, 150 shots rang through the air simutaneously.
The tanks were massive, and odd-looking; white, a pure white, with four navy blue letters on the side: S. C. I. Y.
The enormous machines came to a halt in front of the riled-up crowd of teens, and a man jumped out with an armed soldier at his side. He seemed oddly aged--frail-looking, wrinkled, with snowy white hair greased back into a long ponytail. He wore a simple black t-shirt, tightly hugging the muscles and six-pack a man his age shouldn't have, and some army fatigue pants with the bottoms tucked into his well-worn combat boots. A pair of mirrored sunglasses were on the bridge of his nose, and with one hand he held a plain black umbrella.
In the other hand, he held a loudspeaker.
"Children," His fierce but aged voice boomed, "The day has come. A new era will begin in these streets, either paved with the stones they originated from, or with the bodies of you who resist. Will you join us?"
There was a long, bewildered pause from the teenagers.
Meanwhile, more troops hopped out of the tanks--armed with automatic rifles, neatly standing in line.
"Once more, children...will you join us?"
This time, the crowd responded. There was a loud roar of "HELL NO!"'s, and shouts of "You'll never take me alive!"
There were glass bottles thrown, and spit flew freely...but all the while, the soldiers and the man held their ground and kept their composure.
Then the adolescent mob gradually fell silent, seeing no response.
"Very well," the old man sighed in disappointment. "Aim!" he shouted, the soldiers kneeling with their fingers on the trigger.
Immediately, the crowd rapidly started dispersing in the opposite direction.
"FIRE!"
And with that, 150 shots rang through the air simutaneously.
♠ ♠ ♠
xXIero.ticXx: we so shouldn't be posting this at school. XD <3Madre Guerra: Hi!!! hope you like it, sorry abnout the loooong delays, like computer crash, and lazyness.