Hamburg, July 2017.
A demonstration under the "G20 Entern" banner had been planned for that evening. Already, on Thursday evening, there had been collisions between the police and demonstrators. At least one hundred and eleven officials were injured, as were numerous G20 opponents, who had to be treated by medical assistants.
He watched as the situation in Hamburg escalated on Saturday night after the violent protests against the G20 summit. He took a large breath as he took it all in. The atmosphere was astounding: plundered shops, burning barricades, floodlights, and tear gas.
The police, armed with a massive squad of Special Forces officers, faced hundreds of rioters. Barricades collapsed beneath armored vehicles, and water cannons were in use. Still, in the early hours of the morning, police cars and tanks patrolled the city.
The Hamburg police were shocked by the riots on the occasion of the G20 summit. "We have never before experienced hatred and violence to such a degree," said Bild Daily Special spokesman, Timo Zill.
Supporters of G20 opponents denied assaulting police at the Rote Flora Cultural Center. The Red Flora, which had been occupied for almost thirty years, was one of the most important centers of the German independent scene.
The summit began with an excess of riots. It began by welcoming the international guests in Hamburg where the less than competent world leaders gathered under the auspices of solving the world's problems when their true interest was filling their pockets. This was delayed due to the numerous protests and demonstrators in the city who, again and again, tried to disturb traffic on major street blocks. In the morning, the unknowns had already set numerous cars on fire. A police station was also attacked.
After the plundering and bombarding of barricades, the police moved in, en mass. It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that the situation calmed.
He'd watched the scene—which came as close to hell on earth as he'd ever seen—from the windows in a tall building. He felt the fire burn in his eyes. Humans were so easily manipulated. Sniping at people without anyone noticing in the lingering chaos was going to be easy.
France, the same day.
It was a hot day, and the train was packed. He ran a sweaty palm through his hair. His dark eyes hid behind sunglasses. He observed a young punk, sitting in the car eating junk food, who decided to roll up a joint for dessert. The punk took a puff, clearly bothering the other passengers.
A woman sitting behind the guy asked him to kindly stop smoking. Given the look of his expression, her plea had been met by mockery. Unfortunately, his French was too poor to grasp the gist of the conversation.
His eyes flared behind his glasses. He was all for marijuana. It had its advantages. It served a purpose. Hell, he'd even smoked the occasional joint. He simply couldn’t let people think all pot-users were inconsiderate jackasses who did what they hell they wanted without regard for other people, and he decided to follow the punk to his destination.
The next morning, the punk was discovered duct taped to the back of a train. A joint had been glued to his hand, and a note had been attached to his t-shirt that read, "I wanted to smoke on the train. Look at me now."