He fought through the crowd of the protest, trying to keep his footing while pushing forward, shielding his camera with his forearm. The camera's strap hung around his neck, suspending it over his chest. The press of the mob he was amidst was becoming unbearable; space between individuals was rapidly vanishing. Tension was swelling, a hot urgency was manifested, spreading over the people. Screams and shouts were deafening, yet if one concentrated a steady infuriated chant could be heard, "Justice for humanity, we are all citizens of the World!" The swarm of protestors was becoming agitated as their march spilled into the streets.
In the middle of the protestors, Heero stumbled. They were being rough with him, pushing and pulling at him. He was conspicuous, it was apparent he was not apart of them, wearing blue jeans, a green sweater, and tan jacket. His conservative attire was juxtaposed with militaristic clothing, camouflage, gas-masks, hoods, and bandanas tied around faces. Heero took a solid stance, raising his camera, snapping a few shots. He was about thirty yards away from the front-line, where a wall of police stood armored in full riot-gear. His thoughts overlooked his safety; he was desperate to get a glimpse. The young photo journalist was positive that getting up there could get the shot, a photo that would be at least published, if not on the front page.
Struggling through the mass of people, he was relentless, maneuvering through fray. Everyone seemed to be trying to push forward. Bodies obstructed him everywhere but Heero forcefully advanced. The noise around him impossibly got louder. Ten yards before him was the barricade, the crush of people was keenly oppressive almost suffocating. Heero could go no further. He reached for his camera when the megaphone sounded. "Attention. Everyone must vacant this area immediately or face arrest." As the warning echoed in the streets, a Molotov cocktail hurled through the air overhead, crashing in a fiery explosion on a squad car. Several policemen recoiled as clamor of cheers came from the threatening mob. Heero deftly focused the camera and aimed its lens, capturing the violence. The police organized offensively.
Abruptly, a volley of tear gas canisters launched into the mass of protestors, immediately smoking noxious chemicals on impact. In an instant, the pull of people reversed in a frantic effort to escape the clouds of gas. Heero was not prepared for the violent shift, still clicking his camera, he was thrown back. Slamming into the pavement, Heero tried to get to his feet. But his efforts were thwarted; a constant rush of panicked people ran past him, tripping over him, stepping on him. Direly, he attempted to protect his camera. The gas billowed over him, stinging his eyes, choking him.
A man barreled towards him, all Heero could see were his feet moving rapidly towards him. Heero recoiled, preparing to be trampled over. Suddenly, someone firmly gripped his shoulder, roughly jerking Heero off up the ground.
"Run!" the man demanded. Heero faltered, he was blinded by the gas, and inhaling in the chemicals spurred him to hack. He could barely breathe. Heero's hand was snatched up, retained tightly in another's. Heero was imperiously being led; his feet were forced to run as he was pulled. The camera bounced off his chest as he tried to keep up. They were slamming into people, fighting through the mayhem. Heero griped the hand tightly. His blurred vision could over make out a silhouette of the man urging him forward. In a gray haze, the tear gas spread hysteria. The protesters outcry of fury and indignation was replaced with pain and panic. Automatic guns sounded and screams ensued, Heero flinched.
"This way!" the man instructed his voice barely audible over the commotion. Their direction abruptly changed. People were becoming sparse. They sped into an alleyway, their footfalls reverberating off the walls of the side street. Heero's hand was released. The man spun around to regard him, donning goggles and a bandana covering his mouth. He wore a faded green military jacket, in black stitching over the breast of the jacket read, "Death." Heero squinted, trying to focus his vision, swiping the tears from his eyes. The man removed his goggles and lowered his bandana. He confidently smiled at Heero. He looked older than Heero, by several years. Heero noted the man's lengthy hair held back in a loose braid. As Heero studied the man who helped him, he was taken by piercing cobalt-colored eyes which stared back at him.
"That was fucking close. You're lucky I saw you, kid." He announced casually.
"Yeah. Thanks." Heero replied lowly.
"Call me Duo." He spoke amiably. Heero nodded, standing before him awkwardly.
Duo eyed him, and crossed his arms. "We're not safe here. C'mon." the older man spoke, his tone more stoic. Duo surveyed their surroundings and proceeded to a fire escape, beginning to ascend the metal ladder. Heero tarried, glancing at the street where they came from, still obscured in gray fog, emitting sounds of violence and disorder. Heero followed Duo, climbing ladder after ladder until reaching the roof. Swinging his leg over the edge, Heero saw Duo speaking into a handheld transmitter. Regarding him curiously, Heero could not hear what was being spoken. From the rooftop, the plumes of tear gas drifted upward, dissipating into the atmosphere. Automatic gunfire roared again.
Indifferently, Heero approached the edge of the roof facing the street. Visible were the wounded sprawled upon the cement, people still fleeing, staggering from the gas, and a formation of police clearing the street, arresting stragglers. He aimed his camera, adjusting the focus for his new lofty vantage point, capturing the aftermath of the protest. Heero heard him approach and stand next to him, remaining silent.
"Heero. That's my name if that is what you were going to ask." Heero said, his camera obscuring his face. Duo emitted an airy chuckle.
"I suppose I was going to ask sooner or later." Duo admitted, admiring the younger man, his sharp features and wild dark hair. Duo continued, "Are you working for a paper or freelance? I doubt these are for art class – but on second thought, you never know."
Heero lowered his camera, and faced Duo who was several inches taller than him. "Freelance, but I will get hired soon." Heero insisted self-assured.
"Maybe. If you don't get yourself killed first," Duo taunted causing Heero to frown. He had been foolhardy; his body ached from being stepped on and kicked, nearly trampled. Heero lowered his eyes, gazing over the city streets.
"Are your friends all right?" Heero inquired evenly. Duo raised an eyebrow.
"More or less," Duo replied sluggishly. He leered at the younger man, a pang of guilt smeared over his appreciation of Heero's trim body and deep blue eyes. Duo shook his head and sighed before lightly asserting, "Be more careful, okay?" Heero gave Duo a distant sidelong glance.
"Okay." Heero solemnly answered. Duo smiled and shoved his hands into the pockets of his green canvas jacket. He began to walk away; Heero turned to watch him go.
"Stay up here till the pigs are gone." Duo advised as he drew near the fire escape. Climbing down the ladder, Duo paused and focused on Heero who was staring back at him. Duo grinned, and cheerfully spoke, "See you around, Heero."
Heero remained in stance as Duo descended. After several moments Heero jogged to the ledge, scanning the streets for Duo. Heero never saw Duo walk away.