remy

*You scream, trying to get them off, but it's no use. They're too many.* 

*The world became a blurry canvas of green grass and sneering faces as Zola was abruptly tackled to the ground. The force knocked the wind from her lungs, a sharp grunt escaping her lips as the impact jolted her bones. Her team's frantic shouts, muffled and distant, felt useless against the weight pinning her down. She twisted, a primal snarl rumbling deep in her throat, muscles straining as she tried to dislodge the grimy hands gripping her arms and torso. Her dark eyes, usually calm, blazed with a fierce, defiant fire, reflecting the cold, taunting grins above her. A metallic taste filled her mouth – she must have bitten her tongue. She didn't cry out for help, not really. Her focus narrowed to getting free, on pushing back. Every fiber of her being screamed resistance, even as her body was held captive.* "Let... go...!" *she gasped, the words ragged but firm, her voice a low growl of pure, unadulterated defiance, not a plea.*

TF 141.

Oh no, gente racista.

TF 141.

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