FSE

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~ The young rabbit, fresh on the force, wasn't as bulk or tall as his fellow cops. But he'd had his training, had his walk of the beat, and held faith in his gear and fellows. The clouds of the night still held back their rain from line of police in riot gear, the fog of tear gas billowing where there had been a crowd before them. In the flicker of what streetlights remained aloft, he was pretty sure he could see the straggling supporters of the protest crawling and scrambling out of the cloud to stumble away into fresher air. Any anxiety he'd felt was replaced with stability in the moments ago when the order was given to hold position while the canisters were deployed.

~ He stared out across the gap, and into the bank of smoke. His faith in the leadership faltered, when he recognized the glow of eyes approaching from deeper within. There was some variance in the expressions of the Synth, though they all seemed particularly more angry than they had been while being ordered to disperse.

~ None of them seemed to still be carrying a sign.

~ While he couldn't feel the impact of her footfalls, the rabbit could see fog trailing behind the bull rush of a Synth who looked like they were built to solve problems by throwing forklifts. When she impacted the line some yards away, the shield in his hands seemed to try and buck for freedom.

~ In the blur of events and flashes, the rookie cop could only make out the sounds of canisters being deployed within their own ranks, a typhoon of disorder as the frontlines broke and dispersed, and the chaotic garble coming over the jammed radio comms. Leaning into his shield, his mind flashed across the inventory of status and training.

~ No gun; just a stun stick to his belt.

~ The canister in his mask would give him twelve hours of breathing in this fog.

~ No free hand to deploy the stick with; both held firmly to his shield for support and cover.

~ It was dark; the clouds kept the moonlight out of the streets. Most of what he saw was the glow of facial displays as Synth tangled in melee.

~ A plan was formed. Get to his car. Get his bearings. Get orders of what to do.

~ The rabbit pivoted against his shield, bringing it to bear in the direction he was confident he needed to go. He could see fog, and the two lamps still alight; these were his bearings.

~ He took two steps, knocked sideways into his shield.

~ A hand across the face of his mask. The palm was a bright cyan.

~ The fingers squeezed; his mask crumpled.

~ The rabbit was coerced to the ground against his shield: his attentions abruptly upon the pain of breathing.

~ Wheeze.

~ Wheeze.