What Law Remains
Once, federal agents wore suits. They spoke in measured tones, recited protocols. They upheld the fiction of democracy - the lie that power answered to law.
Today, they didn't bother with illusions. They rolled through the streets in armored vans - black and windowless. Heavy with the weight of authority - authority stripped of restraint.
Sarah stood at her apartment window, the curtain trembling in her fingers. Outside, a line of the hungry waited at the soup kitchen, paper bowls in hand, shoes patched with tape.
The van screeched to a halt at the corner. Doors slammed. Figures in black tactical gear poured out - faceless, behind masks.
They moved without warning. No questions. No names. No charges.
They seized Malik - just a kid handing out flyers about rent caps - and forced him to the ground. One crushed his shoulder with a knee. Another zip-tied his wrists. He shouted, but no one answered. There were no rights read. No law cited. Just force.
A boot jammed his face into the pavement as they dragged him to the van. The door opened. A fist struck him mid-scream. The sound died in his throat. He vanished inside.
"Agitator," muttered Old Man Henderson from the stoop next door, not even looking up from his beer. His MAGA cap was sun-faded, his gut resting on his knees. "Gotta keep things from getting outta hand."
Sarah turned to him. "No charges. No trial. Just snatched like a criminal in the night. That doesn't bother you?"
He shrugged. "They must've had a reason."
"A reason? Look around!" she snapped, pointing to the soup line, to the boarded-up pharmacy, to the armed van still idling like a tank. "This isn't order. It's control. It's fear. The government's guard dogs now wear masks. They take whoever they want. He was just handing out flyers."
"They protect us," Henderson said, eyes blank. "You don't understand how dangerous people like that can be."
The van door slammed shut. The engine roared. It pulled away slowly. No rush. No shame. No badge. No name.
Sarah stood frozen. The people in line lowered their heads. No one spoke. No one moved. Malik was gone.
These federally sanctioned thugs in masks didn't need permission. They didn't follow law. They didn't fear being seen. They were the law now - an arm of a state that no longer cared to pretend.
The illusion of democracy was gone. The Constitution? A relic.
The nation belonged now to the few - thieves, liars and traitors in suits.
License: CC BY-NC-SA 4.0
attribution: 640kb.neocities.org
Date: 06 jun 2025
Date: 20 jun 2025 (rewrote final two lines)