He threw the Molotov cocktail and watched it smash and turn briefly into a beautiful fiery flower close to the tyre of a police riot van. The pigs, as he called them, had been on the retreat for an hour now, the young rioters being large in number and well organised.
He took another cocktail and lit it’s limp rag wick, his eyes coolly searching for a target. On deciding to burn pig fat this time he stretched out and lowered his right arm before flinging his weapon of choice toward his victim.
But before he saw the policeman raise his shield to block the assault, a command was given and the rioters in Whitehall, along with those who had just gathered in Parliament Square stormed forward at the police.
With the others he swarmed, his former target again in his sights as he drew the knife. Onwards he ran, skipping about comrades and holding back a little as the lines of police were quickly broken and the cry for blood went up. At that cry he approached his mark and knocked him to the ground, falling on him and swiftly pulling up his helmet’s visor before inserting the knife in his neck, just as he had been trained to do.
As the fear grew in the stuck man’s eyes and the blood warmed the rioter’s hands, the latter smiled in the knowledge that he would be one of the heroes of this auspicious day. One of the good guys.
He took another cocktail and lit it’s limp rag wick, his eyes coolly searching for a target. On deciding to burn pig fat this time he stretched out and lowered his right arm before flinging his weapon of choice toward his victim.
But before he saw the policeman raise his shield to block the assault, a command was given and the rioters in Whitehall, along with those who had just gathered in Parliament Square stormed forward at the police.
With the others he swarmed, his former target again in his sights as he drew the knife. Onwards he ran, skipping about comrades and holding back a little as the lines of police were quickly broken and the cry for blood went up. At that cry he approached his mark and knocked him to the ground, falling on him and swiftly pulling up his helmet’s visor before inserting the knife in his neck, just as he had been trained to do.
As the fear grew in the stuck man’s eyes and the blood warmed the rioter’s hands, the latter smiled in the knowledge that he would be one of the heroes of this auspicious day. One of the good guys.
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