bang bang bang bang bang bang bang Who: BB & Daniel. What: Daniel's out causing a ruckus at an LAX protest, and BB's there to "cover" the event. Where: Los Angeles International Airport (LAX). When: Jan. 29. Notes:Background info.
By the time BB stepped out of her Uber, there were people everywhere. She was on the far side of the arrival gates at LAX, the closest her driver could get her without needing to start running over people. Signs were awash in the crowd, swaying this way and that, and mixed chants of "let them in!" and "love, not hate, makes America great" could barely be heard among faint screams of "fuck Trump" and the general rigmarole of airport noise. Shouting a quick and cheery 'thank you!' back at her driver, she slammed the vehicle's door shut and started wading her way into the insanity.
Her former editor at the LA Times had called her up to see if she'd take a freelance assignment covering this event, as most of his staff had passed on the opportunity to instead voice their concerns over the new administration's executive orders. Not feeling particularly patriotic or even political, BB agreed, rounded up her reporter's gear and headed down to the airport. Her driver filled her in on the background -- the protest was already blocking traffic, having started early that morning. Early reports said thousands were in attendance and police were already responding to try and dispel the crowds. Fat lotta luck they're going to have with this, BB thought as she elbowed her way further into the crowd.
She grabbed one man's shoulder, spinning him around (or at least attempting to) while simultaneously sticking her tape recorder in his face.
"Hey! Hey, why are you here?"
He jerked his arm free of her grasp. His black sleeve stayed hitched up his arm where he'd pulled free; the black bandana around his neck shifted slightly. "The fuck do you think I'm here for?" He gestured wildly to the signs around him. "Protesting our new Grand Wizard and his Executive Order. Some of these folks are bein' held and haven't even seen a lawyer yet. Who are you?" He gestured to the tape recorder. "What's all this?"
"LA Times reporter. If you've got a message, I'm obviously here to listen." BB arched one brow in the man's direction, but the arm holding the tape recorder didn't waver. "Are you from around here? LA in general, or somewhere further in California?"
"Not far enough from LA to tell you exactly where," he said. He turned to face her more fully, now that she had identified herself. It was clear he remained guarded, but he was willing to speak all the same. "I'm here thanks to immigrants. So is the vast majority of this country. Keepin' people out when they need help most is illegal bullshit." He gestured to the crowd behind them. "We're tryin' to block cops and let help through. ACLU has already sent some folks. More are comin'."
BB fixed him with an arched brow. "No offense or anything, but are you an immigrant? Or are you just here because it's the popular thing to do now?"
A man standing behind BB heard her comment, and a wave moving through the crowd accidentally sent him elbowing into her back. "Hey, we're all immigrants, aren't we? Not unless you've got some Native in you, so maybe if you wanna cover this right you should stick to the facts!" BB shot him a glare over her shoulder.
"Thanks for the notes, but I don't know if you fucking noticed but I'm Korean American," she shot back, closing her mouth just shy of using a profanity. Looking back to her original interviewee, she fixed him with a tight smile. "That said, same question."
Daniel's gaze returned slowly to her. He was watching the man, his body taut as though waiting for something to erupt. "Third generation American," he said. "And I'm glad my family could come here. It's got its problems, but shit, everywhere does. And listen, fuck popularity. This is what needs to be handled right now. Once this fire's put out we can go back to talkin' about long term solutions. But this--"
He shifted on his feet as another wave of protesters clashed. Voices raised in a series of accusations, each one tumbling over the next, impossible to decipher. He looked behind him, ever wary. "Yeah, anyway. One thing at a time, right?"
Another voice rang out over the crowd, slightly muffled yet amplified at the same time.
"WE NEED YOU TO MOVE BACK." BB looked beyond the man she was speaking to, sighting a police officer standing on something to make him tall enough to look out over the crowd, yelling into a megaphone. "THE AIRPORT HAS TO CONTINUE TO OPERATE."
"Fuck these people, I just missed my flight!" A woman off to the side, nearly crushed against a wall as she tried to make it inside the airport, could audibly be heard nearby. "Do you assholes give a shit at all about people trying to go about their fucking day to day? My mother is dying in Arizona!"
BB looked back to the man, shoved forward into his small bubble of personal space. She shoved back, no stranger to difficult public transportation systems, and brought her mic to his face once more. "And what about all of that? Do you guys think you're actually making a difference?"
He did not hesitate. "Yeah. I absofuckinglutely do. This isn't all of it. This is the most visible work right now, and that counts for something. Call your reps, send your letters, donate where you can, but boots on the ground are visible." He gestured to the crush of people around them. "They can't ignore this."
BB was shoved forward again, and she couldn't deny that it couldn't be ignored; she simply didn't hold the same certainty as the man in front of her that it would have the effect they were looking for. She glanced in the direction of the police officer with the megaphone once more, and saw more cops in riot gear preparing to start physically pushing the protesters back. It was time to start withdrawing a little and view from the sidelines, like a good little reporter.
"Thanks, can I get your name? If you wanna be quoted, anyway, I can always use you anonymously too."
The guy behind her started forward again, this time throwing BB directly into the man she'd been interviewing. "Fuck no, you're not leaving! You wanna get a good view of what's going on, you should be inside the crowd. The cops are getting geared up anyway, good luck getting out." He turned to the people beyond him, though there was little breathing room between people to begin with. "Who's got a brick? We need to send a real message to these cops!"
Daniel reached out to her as the man grabbed a small but jagged chunk of broken concrete from the sidewalk. He pulled her hard toward him, out of its path, just as the stone went flying. It had been poorly aimed at a window; instead it struck the shield of a riot officer. The officer's gaze swung to them at once.
"Fuck," Daniel muttered. Then all Hell erupted around them.
A second stone soared through the air, clipping Daniel's ear before striking another protester. He bent down as a fist flashed past his shoulder. He pulled her with him all the while, dragging her toward the edges of the fray. A few halting steps away he caught a flash of red and black from the corner of his eye. The swastika was glaring and plain; its wearer was busily adding more chaos to the tangle of people, swinging wildly at any protester within reach. Daniel swore under his breath, and at last dropped her hand. He launched himself at the man, knocking him down as the crowd parted around them.
BB felt herself go from nearly traveling at the speed of light as the man she'd been interviewing suddenly dragged her bodily through the quickly converging crowd. She kept a tight grip on her recorder and pack, making sure to not let any loose hands in the crowd grab a hold of her stuff. Then she was cut loose from the tether of the man's hand, and she was whirling a little trying to figure out where she was now. The guy she'd been interviewing was punching someone else, or he was being punched; it was hard to tell. By the time she came back around to realizing what was going on, they were already deep in the throes of a fist fight.
She jumped forward and kicked who she assumed to be the perpetrator in the shin, distracting him long enough for the other man to get another swing in. What had caused her to do so, she couldn't immediately name, but adrenaline was pounding hard enough in her ears that she didn't instantly gather that the police were starting to force their way through the crowd to quell the threatening violence.
Blood was dripping down Daniel's cheek. His knuckles were bloody and scraped, and he showed no signs of retreating. Her well-placed kick had bought him time and better footing; he used both, leaning into the next hard right hook angled at the other man's face. The man's eyes rolled back and he crumpled to the ground.
A jet of dark red liquid sprayed out into the crowd. Daniel reached for his bandana, jerking it up around his nose and mouth, but already his eyes were red and going utterly bloodshot. He wheeled and looked for the woman he'd dragged with him, finding her just as the riot officer bore down upon them, zip tie cuffs at the ready.
"Well, you damn sure got a story," Daniel said, squinting blearily at her from red-rimmed eyes. BB had mimicked his motions the minute she saw it happening, pulling her shirt over her face. Due to her positioning behind him and her smaller stature, only her clothes lightly misted by the pepper spray. She wrinkled her nose in response to the smell, but had little time to respond before police were overrunning them, shouting orders and grabbing their wrists.
"Hey! HEY!" BB fought the officer who was neatly slipping one of his zip ties over her hand, jerking her around so that he could pull her wrists together. "I'm a member of the press! I know my rights!"
"Save it," the cop replied apathetically, clearly in no mood for an argument.
"This is bullshit," BB continued, trying to wriggle away from the cop but her small form that had saved her from the pepper spray did not do the same here. Instead, she was suddenly sitting on a curb next to the man she'd been interviewing, her hands tied behind her, her recorder lost somewhere in the street as the crowd surged back and away from the police.
"Shit," she muttered. "My editor is not gonna like me for this." BB glanced sideways at her randomly picked interviewee. "You still able to see outta those? God, you look like crap."
"Yeah, well." He grinned. There was a faint sheen of blood on his teeth; his eyes were swollen almost entirely shut. "I look better than that fuckin' Nazi." He nodded toward the unconscious man, still lying where he had fallen. Not a soul looked down or moved to aid him, and for that, at least, Daniel was grateful. "Knew I should'a brought milk or Maalox or something. They said this was gonna be a quiet one, though."
"Shut the fuck. Up," the officer yelled. Instead the zip-tied, bleary-eyed man only leaned over toward her, elbowing her lightly.
"My name's Daniel, by the way."
Her smile was wide and instantaneous, lighting up her whole face in a far more pleasant way than Daniel's currently looked. "BB." It was the last thing the two were able to say to one another, as the cop decided that some time apart was necessary. He grabbed Daniel's wrists, hauling him and another zip-tied protester to start leading them over to a freshly arrived paddy wagon.