Drabble: Riots
Prompt: The London Riots.... I'm trying to make sense of them. This is what I came up with instead.
Drabble: Riots
Rating: PG
Warning: Character death, violence suggested
The streets were filled with people-teens, chavs, and thugs-all with hoodies drawn up around their faces. They threw bottles and rocked lorries until they flipped. The mob broke windows and looted. Some assaulted reporters.
Gwen hugged a blanket tighter around her shoulders. She could see the wispy trace of smoke rising above the shopping area of Cardiff. She hoped that no one was hurt in her city. Behind her, the television continued to show live reports of the world responding to their governments and the 456.
Apparently, if the British people felt neglected by their government, they rioted.
“-a local Tory headquarters appears to have been firebombed. Local authorities have detained a mob of forty men-“ the reporter explained, only glancing down to the corner of the screen to read her notes. Her face was grim and seemed grey, but the garish yellow suit that she was wearing might have influenced her coloring.
Rhys turned the telly off with a sharp push to the power button of the remote. “Bloody nonsense.”
Gwen almost responded, but Rhys just continued to talk.
“Did we make this worse?” he asked, not expecting a response. “Would people have looked the other way if we hadn’t released that video?”
Gwen closed her eyes. Already, there were some deaths from the clashes between the police and the UK’s people. Undoubtedly, the anger that the civilians felt drove them to these breaking points. More would die-and their deaths would plague Gwen with guilt for years.
“Yes. But they needed to know,” she replied, her voice quiet.
“It was revenge for you too, though,” he accused, catching her eye in the reflection of the window. Gwen avoided his gaze. She could see the remainder of the trashed flat-much more roughed up than the encounter with the fairies. Just like everything that Torchwood touched, little escaped unharmed.
She weighed fighting with him. Then she just looked back out over the street.
Somewhere in London, Jack was taking advantage of the chaos to slip into a morgue to hold Ianto’s cold hand. Knowing that, Gwen had no energy to fight.
Drabble: Riots
Rating: PG
Warning: Character death, violence suggested
The streets were filled with people-teens, chavs, and thugs-all with hoodies drawn up around their faces. They threw bottles and rocked lorries until they flipped. The mob broke windows and looted. Some assaulted reporters.
Gwen hugged a blanket tighter around her shoulders. She could see the wispy trace of smoke rising above the shopping area of Cardiff. She hoped that no one was hurt in her city. Behind her, the television continued to show live reports of the world responding to their governments and the 456.
Apparently, if the British people felt neglected by their government, they rioted.
“-a local Tory headquarters appears to have been firebombed. Local authorities have detained a mob of forty men-“ the reporter explained, only glancing down to the corner of the screen to read her notes. Her face was grim and seemed grey, but the garish yellow suit that she was wearing might have influenced her coloring.
Rhys turned the telly off with a sharp push to the power button of the remote. “Bloody nonsense.”
Gwen almost responded, but Rhys just continued to talk.
“Did we make this worse?” he asked, not expecting a response. “Would people have looked the other way if we hadn’t released that video?”
Gwen closed her eyes. Already, there were some deaths from the clashes between the police and the UK’s people. Undoubtedly, the anger that the civilians felt drove them to these breaking points. More would die-and their deaths would plague Gwen with guilt for years.
“Yes. But they needed to know,” she replied, her voice quiet.
“It was revenge for you too, though,” he accused, catching her eye in the reflection of the window. Gwen avoided his gaze. She could see the remainder of the trashed flat-much more roughed up than the encounter with the fairies. Just like everything that Torchwood touched, little escaped unharmed.
She weighed fighting with him. Then she just looked back out over the street.
Somewhere in London, Jack was taking advantage of the chaos to slip into a morgue to hold Ianto’s cold hand. Knowing that, Gwen had no energy to fight.