You pull your bandana over your face and join your comrades on the frontline. The riot police are trying to advance up the street, but a constant barrage of rocks and bricks is holding them back.
“FUCKING FASCISTS!”
The loud thump of concussion bombs and the sting of tear gas is their non-verbal response. More police are being diverted to your position; their numbers double, and double again. All of a sudden you’re being rushed.
“Through the alleys!” someone yells over your shoulder.
In front of you there are at least a hundred riot police advancing towards you fast. But there’s a weak spot to your left: no more than a dozen cops can fit into the alley at a time. People are voting with their feet. There’s certainly no point in staying here. You abandon your position as the black bloc funnels down the alley.
A large contingent of riot police occupy your previous stronghold unsure whether to follow you or not, while in the alley, the few cops standing guard make a run for it as they are faced with an oncoming wall of black clad youth. You’ve broken through the containment cordon surrounding the police controlled area of the city. Now you own the streets and are free to do as you will behind police lines.
For the next hour or so the sound of breaking glass is the soundtrack of the resistance, as dozens of banks, financial institutions and consumerist franchises feel the heat of the people fighting back. The catharsis is heavy as the powerful institutions that dominate your daily life lie defenceless before you. Moving like a raging torrent throughout the financial district, the bloc avoids large groups of riot cops and charges straight through small police lines. Smashing your way through the path of least resistance, you easily overwhelm a slow and inadequate police response. The spontaneity of anarchy in action is much quicker than the bureaucracy of the police chain of command who find themselves outmaneuvered by rapidly changing tactics from confrontation to evasion. You flip cars, burn dumpsters anything you can to make the streets impassable, effectively immobilizing any motorized police response. But then you encounter something that you hadn’t prepared for. Dozens of police mounted on horseback, towering above your head.
Like any army throughout history faced with a cavalry charge, you begin to feel the terror of the inevitable. With all the speed and might of 600lbs of animal power, there is no way to stay ahead of them on foot. The strength of your resolve disappears, and panic sets in. Your mind races, you start thinking of pikes, flanking, if only you could lay a cattle guard; but the bloc has no training for this kind of combat. It’s time to retreat or face defeat.
As the bloc begins to leave downtown, small gangs splinter off to lose themselves in the anonymity of the city. With shrinking numbers you become acutely aware of your vulnerability. Smoke and tear gas sting your lungs. You keep running, frantically trying to keep out of a trap that’s closing ever tighter around you. You are down to a mob of about twenty or thirty in strength when you find yourself outnumbered and surrounded, with cops ahead and cops behind. You scan your surroundings, desperately searching for an exit.
Luckily a shopping plaza offers you an escape. You burst through the doors, and race down the hall like rats feeing from fire, leaving the cops behind. You’ve never been so happy to be inside one of these corporate pseudo public spaces. Every trademark of brand America lies before you completely undefended. You could hardly stop yourself if you tried. The black bloc storms through the mall like a stampede through a china shop, toppling displays and smashing storefronts as you go. Broken shards of glass scatter across the floor sending screams through the crowds of frightened shoppers fleeing from the chaos.
There isn’t a cop in sight as you and your posse re-emerge into the streets a block away from where you entered the mall. Moving quickly, you make your way out of the downtown core feeling pretty good about your narrow escape from the clutches of the law. You dart around a corner and almost smash right into two cops with one of your comrades, their hands up against the wall. ‘That could be me’ you think, and with no hesitation, you act.
“We can take `em!” you holler. “Let’s free our friend!”
The group of you charge at the police who beat a quick retreat to their cruiser, and take off as fast as they can. You can see the wide eyed face of a prisoner unmasked in the back seat and watch until they disappear. You’re lucky enough that it’s not you in the back of that car. There’s nothing left to do.
“Hey!” A balaclava clad figure is yelling at you. “You saved my ass back there!”
“Yeah well, we’ve all got to look out for each other.”
“Listen we’ve got to get the fuck out of here. Where are you headed? There’s a gathering over at the collective space. You wanna come with us?”
What do you wish to do?