Summer's ears rang like hell. She was rocked, covered in dust and ash. Bleeding from the forehead and laying flat on her back. She was near ground zero for a car bombing. As she came to, she saw the carnage around her. The smoke from the car blocked the evening sun. Bodies, dead or alive, were sprawled along the street. The ones who survived crawled to safety, shrapnel lodged in them as they looked for anyone to help. Summer tried to stand, still hearing nothing but ringing. What happened?
Summer remembered. The riots were immediate after the announcement. Coleson was cleared of charges. Insufficient evidence. Justice would not be served. That was the tipping point. Two years of anger since Rice died brutally, centuries of injustices were put on the shoulders of those protesters. They got violent, fast. The NBLP began their revolution, arming the people and engaging in open gunfights with the police. All under a few hours. It felt like a plan that was detailed down to the minute. Summer, in her press labeled bulletproof vest, set off near Town Hall to gather some footage.
As one would guess, it didn't look pretty. The day was freezing, but the fires everywhere made things nice and warm. People looted stores. Some of the NBLP dragged their wounded to that street Summer was on. The sirens of police could be heard all over the place. It felt like more than a riot. Before she could gather more thoughts. A ball of orange ignited near Summer, sending her and the car parts flying. The ground rocked violently as she hit the deck hard, knocking her out for a while.
She came to, her hearing returning. The cracking of fire. The blaring of alarms. The cries of pain from the bomb. Those same sirens were getting closer. Through the smoke, Summer saw the blue and red lights of the law. She stumbled into cover, catching her breath for a moment before pulling out her camera. It was not too damaged after the bombing. She began snapping shots of the police running to help or arrest the wounded. The NBLP came charging down in an unmarked white van to lay down fire at the cops. A full on gunfight started again. Summer felt the heat and ran into a looted store for protection. She got the pictures she needed.
Summer's phone rang. She pulled it out, seeing it was Sharon. She answered. "Hey."
"Holy shit, Summer!" Sharon yelled. "Thank god. It's fucking nuts down there! You need to come home before they shut downtown off."
Summer grit her teeth. She forgot that could be a situation. Something she'd rather not be stuck in. "Fuck. I gotta at least find Leon."
Sharon sighed. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah. I'm press, Sharon. I won't be hurt unless I'm in the way."
After a bit of silence, Sharon relented. "I can never convince you of anything. Just be safe. Please. I love you."
"Love you too," Summer said before hanging up and walking out of the damaged store into the chaos outside again. She wandered the sidewalks, seeing the Christmas decorations among the smoke. She snapped pictures of cars on fire, bodies of the innocent. The NBLP. The police. It was only a few hours in and it showed no sign of stopping as the sun disappeared. The warzone seemed infinite, as helicopters, press or military, flew over her head. She took pictures of that as well.
She also pulled out a tape recorder. "Summer Armstrong. Today's date is December 17th, 2010. This is just… wow. I mean this was worse than the one two years ago. I covered that one too. But this is a fucking warzone. Organized killers in masks taking it to the cops. Sound familiar? We maybe seeing the consequences of our masked vigilante. Let's be real. This isn't just a Ultraviolence thing. This is… Us. This is what it had come to. The constant violence we fostered and let slide. We are all angry. And maybe Ultraviolence isn't just a person…" She stopped and stared at a body ruined by bullets. "UV is the manifestation of everything. The ugly side of our heads when we get mad. Sighing out."
Summer continued her walk through the carnage, until she heard an explosion from afar. If anyone was going to check it out, it would be Leon. She navigated the streets until she saw another large fight break out, the SWAT taking on the NBLP and other volunteers. She scanned the crowd, taking shots with her camera. She finally saw Leon, engaging with just a shotgun. He was beat to hell in just his slacks and tank top still doing what he could to uphold the law. She was formulating a plan to get to him, but a helicopter swooped in. It was on the law's side, with a large MG mounted on the side. The gun fired mightily, rocking the ground with its impact. It was ripping the rebels to shreds, their blood painting the asphalt. One of the NBLP guys popped up with a RPG. He fired, launching the missile right into the side of the chopper. It exploded on impact, the bird falling on many of the swat and their cars, making an even bigger explosion.
Leon was most definitely in that blaze.
As the NBLP cheered for their win in that sector, Summer gazed at the ball of yellow and orange. The smell of gasoline and flesh wafted through the cold air. With shaking hands, holding back tears, she put the camera up, and snapped a picture. Ready to get out of the warzone.