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He thought that he had prepared himself for this aspect of his job. He felt the gas mask weight down his head and suddenly felt claustrophobic. It was difficult for him to breathe as he attempted to take in the details of the scene around him.
It was hard to see through the gas, but he could hear the screams. The pain in the voices was obvious, and they seemed to be coming from all around.
His arms started to shake as he continued to listen to the screaming. He could taste vomit starting to make its way up his throat. He swallowed hard because he refused to throw up into his gas mask, and taking it off wasn’t an option.
The canister of tear gas still felt hard and cold in his hand. He looked down at it and looked up at the crowds. Making sure that none of his fellow officers were looking he threw the canister without actually releasing the gas within. He couldn’t bring himself to add to this mindless destruction.
These people hadn’t done anything. They were simply protesting their right to exist and have their lives respected. There wasn’t a single violent action that would justify the actions of him and his co-workers.
He made his way out of the gas and took his gas mask off the moment he was out of range of the toxin. The air felt harsh to his lungs, as he took deep breathes. He tried to steady his breathing and heartbeat but was failing. He felt has if he might pass out at any second.
“Let’s head to the station so we can book this asshole.” Another cop stood there with a young man in handcuffs. He stood there confidently in a worn leather jacket even though his face told a different story. His lip was split and there was blood in his hair.
“I’m the asshole?” the man said spitting on the ground. The spit had a red tinge to it.
The cop didn’t respond but forcibly shoved the man into the back of the police car.
The entire car ride was spent in silence. The silence hung over them. It would have been better to have some speaking or even music, but it didn’t seem to be to appropriate time.
“Can you book him for me? I want to grad a cigarette,” the cop asked.
“Uh…yeah.”
Once again in that terrible silence he removed the protester from the back of the car. He was about to walk him into the station, but he couldn’t bring himself to walk him through those doors. Instead he led him down the alley next to the police station.
“Where are you taking me exactly?” the protestor asked.
“I’m not taking you anywhere. I’m letting you go.”
The protestor stared at the cop for a second before a smile crossed his face. The cop noticed that even when bleeding and bruised the man in front of him striking. He had a difficult time looking away from him.
“Why?”
“It’s the right thing to do.”
“You’re just going to let me walk away?”
“No. We’re going to walk away. Can you drive a motorcycle?
“Yeah.”
“Good. Let’s go.” The cop removed the handcuffs and smiled at the man in front of him. For the first time he was confident in the choice that he was making, even if it was completely illegal.
The two men made their way down the alley towards a motorcycle that was leaned against the police station. “You got the keys?”
The cop shook his head. Maybe he hadn’t thought out this plan as well as he would have liked. The protestor shrugged and started to hot wire the motorcycle in front of him.
“What’s your name?”
“Officer 2187,” the cop said giving his badge number out of habit.
“I ain’t using that. What’s your real name?”
“Finn.”
“Nice to meet you, Finn. I’m Poe Dameron, and we better get the hell out of here before we have company.”
The motorcycle slowly rumbled to life as Poe climbed onto the bike. He motioned to the seat behind him. Finn looked back at the police station and the life he had known and then back at the handsome man in front of him bleeding on a motorcycle.
It was an easy decision to climb on the back of that motorcycle.