The fighting had died down for the most part. Tyreese Washington, proud self-declared "freedman" and the closest thing the BLA had to a overall commander of their Tampa liberation effort stood on top of a burnt-out Walmart and watched his men loot their way through a suburbia turned into a wasteland by the fighting of the last few months.
Those cracker homes made for good fires, that's fo' sho'.
"Yo, Ty!" a voice rang out. One of his men was running across the parking lot, gesturing wildly. "Ty, ya gots ta see dat! Me'n tha homes found som'th'n wild, nawmsayn!"
Behind the excited fighter followed more of their comrades, hooting and hollering as they kicked a man in the Atomwaffen Division's signature flecktarn onwards in front of them.
"See Ty, we caught this here cracker tryin' ta slip away."
Ty shrugged.
"So what? Waste 'im, like the resta dem Nazi fucks."
"Naw, ty, brotherman, ya've gots to see dis!"
In one swift motion, the messenger pulled a combat knife off his rig and cut the front of the white man's uniform open. Instantly the prisoners arms shot up, trying to keep his chest from view.
Tyreese let out an appreciative whistle through the gap between his front teeth.
"Shiiieeet, I'll be damned. Whiteboy's got a nice rack on 'im."
"You ain't seen nothin' yet!" The messenger revelled in his role as showmaster and, with a flourish, he cut open the prisoner's combat pants and tore the remains down. One of the unfortunate man's hands shot down, but it was already too late. Tyreese had seen everything.
"Our Whiteboy here ain't a boy at all," the messenger shouted with glee, "she's a li'l white bitch!"
"Shiiiiieeeet," Ty drawled again, more drawn out this time, "bitch's got a fine body. Get rid of that raggedy-ass stache an' have her grow her hair and that's one fine piece of ass. Whatchu say, snowbunny? Wanna pay reparations wit ya body?"
"I'm a man," the Prisoner shouted, the crack in "his" voice and the tears gleaming in her eyes doing nothing to back up her claim. "I am a national-socialist revolutionary, and if any of you goddamn nigg-"
A rifle butt to the head shut her up and sent her tumbling to the ground. She drew the rags that remained of her uniform up around her and sniffled softly as she protectively drew her knees up in front of her.
Tyreese gave her one more once over. Yeah, this would do. He remembered what those skull-masked psychos had done when they took Florida. It was only just to have a little payback.
"Break that bitch in," he ordered. "I want her in my bunk by evening. 'Fore that, she's yours."
He had already turned away from his jubilant underlings when one more thing came to mind and he turned around once more.
"An' make sho' to get rid of that ratty 'stache!"