Chapter 6 – Demonstration and the police
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The demonstration

I thought it had something to do with retirement stuff and most probably something with money too. I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I wanted out! Drams of people were disorienting me completely. They were hindering me to read name tags of streets or directions and were completely preventing me from going in any other direction than the march. Forward! It seemed like the only possibility. Except, I didn’t want to go there. I needed to find my hotel. It was absolutely dreadful to be in this situation, dragging a suitcase and wearing a backpack.

I slowly moved to the side of the demonstration in the hope of getting into one of the side streets. At the side, I was greeted with a wall of French police and military. Military? Really? Wearing riffles in the open and clearly battle-ready? This was not good. I continued shuffling with my suitcase at the sides. I hoped of being noticed and recognised as a tourist and let out. No such luck so far.

Meanwhile, I was rapidly turning deaf by the loud shouting in that gibberish French language and sounds of all kinda horns and firecrackers. These French were clearly completely nuts. Using firecrackers while armed men ready to shoot were close by? WTF? I was feeling that familiar numbness coming up and it was spreading quickly across my entire body. It was way worse then before. Luckily, nowadays, I was more prepared for something like this happening. I was wearing unisex cloths with a hoody. Nevertheless, I was slowing down to a crawl because the numbness was really getting fierce, worse than ever before. I kept on being pushed and I hid further under the hoodie.

Suddenly a group of rude men wearing yellow safety jackets broke through the crowd dragging filled waste bins. They bee-lined to the sides and started throwing the bins to the police. Right in front of me.

“This is not happening. This is not happening. This is not happening…”, I started chanting my mantra. No avail… they were adding burning projectiles and the police formed a solid line with their shields. Their backline was nervously busy with walkie-talkies and I already saw more military running to the scene from the side streets.

“I need to get out!!! NOW!” I thought panicking and fighting vigorously against the numbness. It was no use. It was a hundredfold worse than it ever was. Suddenly something clicked in my mind. I gave up. I gave up on getting out. I gave up on escaping unharmed. I gave up on resisting the change. I now had only one burning goal in my heart: survive! No matter the cost. The moment I gave up, the numbness changed into the familiar warmth. But it was very different from before. When before, it was a soothing pleasant warmth, this time it was an extremely invigorating warmth. It was like some triple shot of adrenaline was administered to me.

I didn’t stop to consider how I turned out or how my body felt. I knew it was vastly different and that the way I walked was completely different too. I felt lighter. I felt stronger somehow. And then another really strange thing happened. I started to understand the gibberish around me. I stopped, startled, completely surprised. I started to discern words in the weird sound stream like ‘putain’, ‘merde’, ‘nique’, ‘salop’ and ‘bordel’ and it started to click in my mind and the rude meaning became clear. While I already knew they were provoking the forces of law and order, it suddenly got a magnitude more real, now I knew what they were saying.

Then the situation got completely out of hand by two actions. An armoured water cannon appeared to disperse the demonstrators and the yellow people got reinforcements carrying bricks and some things like Molotov cocktails. As soon as the defensive police line opened to make place for the water cannon, the protesters lit up the cocktails and started throwing bricks and fire to the police aside the truck. It seemed the yellow men had experience with this because they were quite well spread out between the ‘normal’ folks. Their coordinated attack broke the lines aside the cannon. They immediately rushed in, knifing the tires and setting them on fire. This all happened just in front of me.

From around me, police started moving in, this time with brandished police batons. At the same time, the army men were taking aim and shooting with rubber bullets. Looking behind me, I saw two men running in and launching heavy chunks of concrete. One man, got shot down mid movement. He went down screaming. The other one succeeded in launching his stone and I watched it in horror bouncing of a shield and then hitting the helmet of a nearby police officer. The police officer went down and people were cheering. I clearly saw blood streaming from under his helmet. I sucked in my breath in horror.

Three police officers ran in from the sides, and closed in on the successful thrower from behind and started beating him down. Hard. They didn’t bother cuffing him until he was flat on the ground and stopped moving. One of his legs was in a weird angle and I clearly saw that his left forearm was broken. They dragged him away to the sides where ambulances were now appearing. A trail of blood marked his passage. I felt nauseous and very alive at the same time.

I stood there. Mid war zone. Violence around me. People getting hurt, on all sides. People bleeding, fleeing, or lying on the streets. People screaming. Fighting. Tear gas being thrown. Luckily further away. I stood there. Unmoving. With my trolley and backpack. Hiding in my hoody. Suddenly a yellow jacket ran past me, grabbed my trolley and threw it hard and fast to a military squad. “He should be doing baseball! That throw is vicious!” I thought randomly. It hit a full strike. Three went down. Instantly that idiot and I became the centre of extremely unwanted attention. Neon arrows pointing at our heads and giant bulls-eyes on our back.

I saw a riffle taking aim at me and the world slowed down. I saw the light flash at the muzzle and was already moving. I felt the wind sear by me as the rubber bullet passed. A man behind me got hit in the shoulder and went down. I saw the expression of the shooter change from concentration to surprise and confusion. I guess my random movement saved me. When I turned I saw two officers charging me and two officers charging to the yellow jacket aside me who drew a knife. I somehow ducked and turned extremely fluidly and successfully, because both charging officers passed me without being able to grab me. I felt their hands pass my body but somehow they failed to get a solid grip. Their batons butchered some innocent air. Everything around me was still moving slowly. Continuing my moves, I started running to the rifleman in the hope to pass him and flee in the side street. In the corner of my eye, I saw the yellow jacket going down by a rubber bullet. He was jumped by the two officers targeting him.

As I closed in, to try to escape, the water stream of the cannon was suddenly spewing at me. I swiftly rolled away avoiding the brunt of the hit. I stood up again, a little off track and soaking wet. It didn’t slow me down. I continued running but lost my shoes and socks in the process. Smaller feet and wet footwear, you know… Running just got easier and far more painful. Not that I really noticed in my adrenaline induced haze.

In the corner of my eye I saw the gunman took aim at me again. He looked at me with panic in his eyes. I was very close. I somehow succeeded to approach fast enough and to swat the riffle away before he could shoot. The shot went off, trying to knock down some innocent clouds. I passed him without giving him further attention.  Policemen and military were closing in on me like I was a black hole and they were all inescapably drawn to it. “The gravity of the situation … “, I partially thought.

I almost made it without any incident… but one of my pursuers succeeded in grabbing the handle of my backpack while I was passing by. The shock pulled me back a little and the two seconds it took to liberate me from my backpack was enough for four people to jump me. I avoided three. They hilariously fell flat on their face around me. But the fourth slowed down a bit and just tripped me with his baton. It smoothly curled up, rolled and got up again, ready to continue my run but a police car was in front of me.

I jumped like a cat on the roof and glided further over the car encountering my final obstacle. A chain. The sidewalk was decorated with poles and the poles were connected by chains. Beauty? Safety? No idea. But it made me stumble and broke my fluid movements long enough to get hit by a stun gun. My muscles all clenched up for a few seconds. I didn’t pass out but when the feeling stopped I was already cuffed.

The world caught up on me and I started crying. I didn’t understand what happened. “Why did I get attacked. I just stood there. How on earth, did I pull off those moves? Et putain! Comment est-ce que je comprends le merde qu’il dise ?” (How the fuck do I understand the shit they are saying?), I thought, yammering in misery.

I got handled very roughly until I got handed over to some female cops who weren’t gentle but not at least a lot less violent. I guess they went a little easier on ‘defenceless’ women. I got locked up in some sort of bus together with a mixture of mostly men. 80% of the occupants were wearing those cursed yellow jackets. The officers wrapped a blanket around me. Just only then I noticed that my clothes were clinging to my skin. I was chilling to the bone.

Since the moment I entered, all eyes were on me. It felt more than a bit threatening. I guess they got a real good look at me in wet cloths before the blanket hid me.  A few of them tried to start a conversation with me, but I pretended I couldn’t understand them. I had no intention to accept an invitation to some obscure apartment to get groped by a dirty smelly violent jerk. Especially not since they mixed nice, exaggerated compliments on my looks with plain vulgar suggestions on what I should do with them.

I had no idea how I turned out, but I was 100% sure I was 100% female this time. I felt a little dirty and violated from the attention I was getting. It made my skin crawl. I thoroughly appreciated that we were all cuffed and locked to our seats.

I was freezing under the blanket. I did my best to hide even further in it, which was not easy with my hands locked in place.

Time to think also meant time to evaluate my situation and my body. “How am I going to get out of this mess?”, I pondered, “I don’t have my suit case. I don’t have my backpack. I only have my cell phone and my credit card.” I continued thinking, “My identity card is not even remotely able to identify me.” I realized, I couldn’t call anyone to vouch for me, since nobody would recognize me. I was deeply in trouble. If only, they would let me go without asking too many questions. But I quickly realized that not carrying some form of identification might hold an advantage at this point.

I studied the two other women in the detention vehicle. I didn’t feel any attraction to them. Which was not completely abnormal, I guessed. Stressful situation, everyone a bit dirty and they were just plain normal people, no super models. I covertly let my eyes wander over my male companions and I felt nothing but repulsion. Except for two guys in the corner. They looked extremely miserable and I just wanted to comfort them. I was relieved I didn’t feel any attraction to men either. So, all normal, I think. Way better than during my weird internet surfing session.

Turning back to myself I tried to look a bit at my body. My legs looked like they had a very nice shape. Slender and attractively sculptured. My belly was flat. Period. Nothing more to add. While previously I had a bit of a cushion in that area, that was all gone now. I filled the seat more then I used to do. When I looked down I noticed my hips flared a lot more to the sides. Sitting also felt softer. So I guessed my butt must be a bit larger too. Those two facts were also evident from my pants being stretched out around those parts while they were kinda loose before. Around my middle, it was the inverse. My pants were very loose there. It was clear that my male attributes were gone, or at least infinitesimal small. It felt a bit strange. Like I was feeling something in that area but the sensory input was not making any sense at all and at the same time, the sensations I expected were missing. I was still barefoot and I couldn’t keep my eyes from my ice cold feet. They were sooooo smalllllll! And so cute! Mine! Painfully cold!

 

The police station

When the sun was setting, I found myself in an interrogation room in a local police station looking at camera footage of my exploits.

Two female police interviewers started the video without further introductions. The one with the name tag ‘Margot’ asked me the first question after we were finished. In French of course.

“Can you confirm this is you on this video?”

“I think so.” I answered hesitantly. This was the first time I saw myself from an outside point of view.

“What is your name and what is your address?”, the second officer asked. Her name tag was Amélie. If you pronounce that name with a French accent, it had a very dreamy sound. It was wonderfully fitting since the officer herself actually had a bit of dreamy looks. Large warm brown eyes. A clear soft skin with a round face. Light brown hair, slightly curling. An aura that radiates innocence and naivety. A girl you’d expect sitting in a theatre, fanning big eyed over a romance movie and not interrogating people as police attendant.

“Marie Keenan.” I replied instantly. I had already decided on this during the ride in the bus. Keenan was my mother's name. I continued with my home address, which was of course not in France.

“A foreigner!” Amélie exclaimed. “I didn’t expect this. Your French is just perfect.”

“I work at a helpdesk and understanding and speaking more than one language is a huge asset”, I made up on the spot. I never had to use another language while working.

“That’s fantastic”, Margot intervened. “More people should learn French!” “Do you have some identification on you?”

“I had my identity card in my backpack, but I lost it in the struggle. I have no idea where it is now.”

“Is that the backpack we saw you drop in the recording?”, Margot asked.

“Yes.”

“Amélie, can you go outside and check if the backpack has been brought in?”, Margot ordered. Amélie immediately got up and went outside. “How did you end up in the demonstration?”, Margot inquired.

“I missed my stop at the subway, I was supposed to get off the red line and take a green line towards the business district but I exited close to the ‘Arc de Triomphe’, mid demonstration. The more I tried to get away from the protests, the more I got pushed along. And then men with yellow jackets began provoking the police stationed at the sides.”, I explained. “I tried to stay out of it and I mostly succeeded, until my trolley got snatched from my hands and used as a projectile to hurt your colleagues”, I told.

“When I got caught in the middle of the attention, I tried to run away and not get hurt. I don’t think I hurt anyone while running away.” I added.

“From the reports of my colleagues on site and from the recorded footage, you didn’t hurt anybody indeed. Except for the pride of a few. I think this vid is going to turn into a famous fail compilation among us.”, Margot confirmed with an obvious happy smirk. “Did you do any special combat training or martial arts in the past?”, she asked curiously.

“No. I do mild exercises to keep in shape but nothing in that style.” I answered. That wasn’t even the truth. I moved even less then I suggested. The only exercise I got was playing with my kids. I doubted if I could run 1 kilometre without stopping. Even adding the lie, it still sounded a bit unbelievable in my ears. I was fearful about the reaction of the officer.

“You never did parkouring or obstacle running?”, Margot was probing for an explanation.

“No, I would be too scared to hurt myself. I think that what I did, was pure instinct and panic and a strong will to escape unharmed.” I tried as explanation.

Amélie came back in, just in time to hear that answer. She look at me with clear disbelief in her expression. She sighted and sat down again across me. “Nobody retrieved your backpack or your suitcase. I have put out a request to find and bring it. It will be here tomorrow or the day after. If they find it.” “Our apologies for that. Can you give the address where you will be staying? The name of the hotel?” she continued.

And with that fact, my identity was accepted without real proof. I gave her the name of the hotel I should have been hours ago. I most certainly missed dinner already. I was getting really hungry. Each time parts of my body shifted form, I needed to eat a lot of high energy food. This time the shift wasn’t partial…

Meanwhile, Margot restarted the video of me trying to escape. After watching it again, she turned to me. “Everything you said, is like we see it in the recording. But, is there really nothing you did to learn those moves? I don’t think I ever saw someone move like you did. It’s almost like watching a dance. Did you have some extensive gym or dance training in the past”, she asked again.

“No, I didn’t”, I replied, “There is nothing in my past that can explain how I did this. Even I don’t understand how I did this. I never ever did something like this before.” I stated. When I normally looked in the mirror, I saw a normally looking guy. Not a slender, extremely agile and clearly beautiful woman with long hair. There was no way I could move like this before. The reaction speed, the athleticism, the flexibility… it was off charts. “Is it possible to get a copy of that recording? It’s so incredible and at the same time it’s me doing it, that I want to hold on to it.” I asked hopefully.

“Normally, no. But we will see if we can get you a copy. This is just too exceptional.”, Margot said with a sigh, finally accepting that her search for an explanation was fruitless. “Do you have some kind of data storage device on you?”

I thought about that question a bit, thinking of my empty pockets and meagre possessions on me. Suddenly I realised I had something with me. “I have a micro SD card in my phone.”

“Micro SD works. Amélie, can you make the copy while I wrap this up?” Margot asked.

While Amélie left the room once more after I handed over the SD card, Margot explained I had to stay in France for the next days and I had to stay available. She asked the number of my cell phone to note down in my file. They would contact me if there were further questions. She informed me that it was quite possible, they were going to ask me to identify the yellow jackets I saw at the demonstration. That would be later this week.

A bit later Amélie returned and gave me the micro SD card. I had to wait a little longer in the interrogation room until all the typing and printing of my statement was done. I signed it off without thoroughly reading it. I invented a new signature on the spot.

It was still very weird. The entire document was in French but somehow I was able to decipher it. It was not as easy as orally. I had to try to knit the letters together into words and try to pronounce the words in my mind before I understood what was written down. I didn’t want them to notice the huge gap between my speech skills and my reading skills.

“I have arranged 15 minutes shower time for you, as well as dry clothes and shoes from our lost and found collection.”, Amélie said surprising me. “We arranged it, since you lost everything and your current clothes are still soaking wet. You can keep the clothes afterwards.” “After the shower, a doctor will do a brief examination. If everything is ok, you will be released. A colleague of us will drop you off at your hotel. There are still riots going on and we don’t want you get caught in them again.”

“Shower? Clothes?” I stared at her dumbly. “Oh, thank you very much!”, I exclaimed after a few awkward silent seconds. “I’m chilled to the bone and you surely want the blanket back.”, I added while ironically pulling the blanket a bit tighter.

 

Here you have it. A bit of an action packed chapter. Awkwardness, action, embarrassment, violence, love... It will all follow. How is for the story to decide. Julian/Marie's story is far from finished. As ever, please notify me of mistakes in names/grammar/word usage.

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