[ WP ] A young police recruit is placed in riot gear and thrust to the front line against an escalating protest .

Money and love will make you do stupid things. 
 
 People have killed for it. Stolen it. Some have even enslaved themselves, and restricted their freedom to have some type of security and stability through a job. 
 
 I was one of those idiots that worked for it, instead of hiking, or, my favorite, writing of a world where things went smoothly and teenage angst was the biggest struggle of our time. 
 
 I did n't live in that world. 
 
 Instead I lived in a world where President Yanokovich (? ) signed a property deal with Russia, giving them our gas lines. He did this instead of making moves toward the EU. 
 
 Our people were left with shit to begin with, then this deal happened and riots broke out. I knew I was on the losing side. It's just that when it succeeds I'm worried what will happen to my little Antoinette, maybe if I can hold out for two more weeks, I'll be paid and prepared for chaos, so she could eat and not know the difference. 
 
 I thought of all this, as I strapped on my riot shield, and heard the faint echoes of chants and fireworks. *The rioters* 
 
 Anne was three, loved to play dress up, and had nothing but innocence in her heart. Hell, we even had a tea party while I was still wearing my riot gear. 
 
 *'' You with the riot shield! To the front! `` * my captain motioned me to hop on the open truck to be sent in. 
 
 As I sat there I thought of Anne's mother. She was artistic, elegant, and adventurous. She challenged everything: her God, her country, even the norm of settling down. She challenged normal fashion sense and wore eccentric colours. She was the love of my 19 year old life. *Pheebee… Fee-Bee* her name stuck in my mouth. Unfortunately she died during child birth transitioning me to the next love of my life, my new world, which forced me to settle down, work for my country, and wonder if god punished me. *I'm glad Pheebee could n't see me now* 
 
 *'' Here's your line. `` * That was code word for'Time to punish these rioters', and it was apart of the...'fun' some of my coworkers signed up for. 
 
 As I pushed my way through the grey uniformed men, I saw out in the distance a field of colours, a field of rioters who dared risk their idea of livelihood for something new. Strangely the closer I got to front line the quieter it got, as if my instincts has built in ear phones for the fireworks that roared above my head. In the front I held my riot shield against a screaming protester who said vulgar things about my livelihood. I couldn ’ t hear these things, things were, again, muffled. Then I was hit with a rock, and instinct kicked in and I raised my baton and struck the dirty college boy in front of me. *Right in the chin*, except something was different. My heart was racing and I was left breathless and my conscious felt dirty. I looked down at the bloodied unconscious boy to see if he was okay, to see if my soul could remain innocent. Except it wasn ’ t the boy any more. *What I saw in front of me was an Pheebee in a yellow dress, covered in blood and dead. Again* 
 
 My eyes blurry and watery, my breathing got worse. I was hallucinating. My baton still clinched. Frantic, I looked up at the rioters to see them charging at the line with their own shields. They were all different types of Pheebee ’ s. 
 
 I closed my eyes and changed my stance for impact, ready to strike them down. *My love, my life. * As they clashed in to me and I pushed back, I again raised my baton. Tears behind my mask as I hit every Pheebee... for Antoinette
