The Day White Folks' World Shook
“When did you first see a mage?” asks one of the many young inexperienced guerrillas who joined the Black rebellion largely based on the legendary powers of Black operators. The veteran fighter he asked the question to rubbed one of the many burn scars she accumulated during the liberation war as she searched her memories for the answer. 

“5 years ago” she states dryly, still searching her thoughts for details of the encounter.

Excited by the fact that any answer was give, the guerillas huddled closer to the vet, their shuffling echoing throughout the basement they were currently trapped in as they hid from gov’t forces inspecting the building. 

“I was at a protest 5 years ago, right before the war began.” “We were all in our Black Bloc outfits ready for more government protest suppression haha”. The veteran keeps dryly giggling considering easier times when organizers were dodging tear gas and rubber bullets from cops vs guerrillas dodging flames and laser beams from govt operators. 

As she notices the other guerrillas staring at her wondering what exactly was funny about her last statement she stops herself “Ahem! So yea all I really remember is the lines of protesters and police opposing each other, and a person dressed in Black Bloc shit comin’ out of the cut and standing in the space between the protesters and police.”

“Wait why didn’t they attack them?” One of the guerrillas interject.

“Well we thought he was a fucking suicide bomber or some shit and so did the pigs!” As the thoughts and images of that time became more clear to her she starts to speak with much more enthusiasm. “We all backed the fuck up not knowing what was about to happen and then I noticed his arm was covered with a metal cylinder on some cyborg shit.” Now leaning forward towards the guerrillas herself she continued “He pulled out out what looked like a slave shackle and shoved it quickly into an open slot in the cylinder! We didn’t know what TEPs were then so we couldn’t have never know what was going to happen.” 

“How did the ancestors manifest!?” one of the young guerillas screamed from the back of the circle. Before the veteran could answer another fighter shoved him. “Nobody believes that voodoo spiritual shit! Just because those TEP things grabs shit from the past doesn’t mean Kunta Kinte is in that electric bolt. He probably busy still trying to flee the plantation and shit. He don’t got no time to be fighting wars of the future!” The fighter yells all of this as the other guerrillas cackle in the background. 

“Don’t be an ass!” the veteran barks, cutting through all of the laughter and silencing the rest of the squad. “I don’t think you’re wrong to ask that” she says as she turns to the guerrilla who asked the question and grabs their hand. “Just as the cops began moving back forward in that moment...he yells and there’s a small flash from his arm; it was the loudest yell I’ve ever heard in my life. His yell literally shook the Earth.” Her eyes looked away from everyone and her voice lowered as she began to visualize the scene in vivid detail now. “He had to have summoned the ancestors or some shit. The whole street in front of him crumbled and raised and fell. The cops were all over the place and the ones who didn’t fall ran… was like the ancestors buried under NY rose up in anger at least that’s what people said after the fact.”

“Is he still around?” someone in the back asked.

“I don’t know” the veteran says. “He disappeared in the chaos of all of us running or hiding. I believe that was the first time someone used a TEP in public, and it was also the first time white folks world truly shook. I wond--”

One of the fighters hops up to their feet and says “Yea! He disappeared and we got the fucking government operators. You know they started sending those laser and fire summoning motherfuckers at us cause they was scared Black folks would sink their shit into the ocean!”

“And they would have deserved it” The veteran sharply states, reclaiming her space. “They’ve slaughtered and enslaved us for 500 years, one earthquake, from an ancestor or not, is just a taste of what they deserve. They lucky our leaders just want them to step down from power. If it was up to me--” 

“It's all clear! The operators and soldiers just left the Perry projects!” a voice from a corner of the basement yells. 

“Ah shit. Ok y’all let's get our gear and get back to the safe house, we still gotta debrief” the veteran says. “We gotta prepare to meet up with the Seneca operators to plan for the Ft. Erie offensive.”

“Let's hope the can summon earthquakes cause we’ll need them” a guerilla adds in.

“Nah man! Them motherfuckers shoot wind blades at niggas. I’d take that shit over earthquakes any day, at least I won’t be running in fear like she did” another fighter states as she points back at the veteran. The squad fall apart in laughs as they exited the basement of the high rise they was hiding in.

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