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Rooftops: Red Sky

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u6mkxT7ED5E

1218 Hours; 16:12 Remain

Tyres Kith opened his eyes, dusty light streaming in from the open window of his room. He stretched a bit and pulled back the covers, sore after a long sleep. He looked over at his clock. 12:18 PM, it read in glowing green cells. The protest starts in an hour or so, Tyres thought, stretching one last time before getting out of bed. Before putting on any clothes, the eighteen year-old human reached over and turned on his iPhone, which was plugged into an iHome that was modded so that it would fit the Lightning port on his phone. "Lungs," covered by Steve Earl, began to fill the room.

His parents had gone to a ski resort for the weekend, but he had opted to stay behind, using the excuse that his lacrosse team had practice every Saturday for the next 3 weeks. The lacrosse team really was practicing, but Tyres had more important things to do. He pulled on a pair of urban camo ACU bottoms from the floor and headed over to the closet, stepping over several hundred dollars' worth of designer clothing on the floor. In his closet, the expensive shirts that his parents bought for him gathered dust, shunned in favor of the raggedy black shirts that he bought himself.

The shirt slipped over Tyres's arms and over his not too long black hair. "You don't want people to think you can't afford a decent haircut," Mr. Kith would say. Legally, Mr. Kith had no authority over Tyres, as he was no longer a minor, but, unlike landlords, he demanded no money, merely respect from his only child.

Tyres's parents were somewhat wealthy, upper middle class, but were stingy with how much spending money they would give him. "What could you possibly need to spend money on? We'll pay for anything you need." That was Mrs. Kith. Tyres opened his nightstand drawer and removed two fingerless gloves and a black bandanna. By this point, "Lungs" had ended, and Bullets and Octane's "Pirates" had begun to play.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_1sNRmguTIE

From the next room over, Tyres heard one of his friends stirring. As his parents were gone for the weekend, he had asked several of his furry friends to stay over. Those who weren't homeless didn't have central heating in their appartments, and a few hadn't had anything to eat for at least two or three days. A warm bed and free meal (a couple of pizzas bought with the money his parents had left him for food) was more than enough reason for them to stay over, so after his parents left for the ski resort Friday night, Tyres's house was filled with the five friends whom he'd asked.

Furs throughout the house slowly began to wake, more than likely from the loud music emenating from Tyres's room. He slipped out of his room and down the hallway before entering his parent's bedroom. Alice, a nineteen year old vixen, had claimed the master bedroom, claiming that since she was the only female, it would be indecent to sleep with the males in the living room. No one had any qualms with the claim, and Alice got the king-sized bed. That's not why Tyres was in the bedroom, though. No, that had more to do with the gun cabinet in the walk-in closet.

1. Click; whirrrrrrr; 4. Click; whirrrrrrr; 76. Click. The door to the cabinet swung open with a long, low creaking sound that resulted in how rare the gun cabinet was opened. Three shotguns rested in the cabinet, while on a shelf above them sat a beautiful silver AMT Hardballer, along with ammo for each firearm and a tactical holster for the semi-automatic pistol. Tyres put the Hardballer in it's holster and strapped the holster to his leg.

"Here, toss me a shotgun," said a voice from behind him. Tyres turned around to find that it was Alice. Tyres handed the fox a shotgun. "If you want it a bit shorter, there's a hacksaw in the garage. I'm actually about to cut off these two in here," Tyres offered. Then he caught sight of his parents' bed and smiled. It wasn't neccesarily coated in fur, but there was enough fox fur there that his parents would have a heart attack. Even his father, the more... tolerant... of the two, had no love for furs, and felt that they had no place in modern society. "Can't they see that we don't want them here?" he would ask whenever the subject came up at the dinner table, which only happened rarely. Tyres would grit his teeth a little and choke back his true thoughts before changing the subject.

"I'm actually fine with it the way it is, so no thanks," replied Alice. "But, uh, you know... " she started. "Yes?" Tyres asked, intrigued. "Last night could have been the last time you'll ever sleep in a bed," Alice started. "It may have been the last chance you'll ever have to do whatever you feel needs to happen." "True..." Tyres replied, starting to see where this was going. Alice continued. "I-I'm not sure about you, but tomorrow, I may die a virgin... " Tyres nodded and kissed her on the cheek. "You're not going to die a virgin, Alice." The fox moaned a sigh of relief. "So we can-" Tyres cut her off. "I'm sorry, there's just not enough time, but God knows I'd love to. I mean that you're not dying tomorrow, Alice. I'll make sure of that." With that, Tyres grabbed the two remaining shotguns and headed to the living room. "Could you please grab the ammo out of the cabinet? It's kinda hard to not get killed when all you have is an empty shotgun."

The rest of the furs were in the living room, in varying degrees of wakefulness. James, a red thylacine, was in the kitchen, cooking pizza rolls. James had been Tyres's best friend since middle school, and his family were the only furries that his parents had any respect for. "Alright," Tyres announced upon entering the room. "Who wants a shotgun? I only have two left, but there's some tools in the garage that could be used as melee, and there's plenty of glass bottles if you feel the need to make Molotovs." James was the first to speak up. "I don't really need a shotgun; a crowbar and a Molotov or two is all I need." "Okay," replied Tyres. "That's me, Alice, and James accounted for. That leaves Jon, Daniel, and Colton unarmed. Which of you three doesn't want a shotgun?" All three paws shot up. "Okay... in that case, who doesn't want a weapon?" The three paws stood. "I'm sorry to say that's not an option. Now, let's try this again: Which of you three wants a shotgun?" Jon, a lizard, was the only one not to keep his paw up. "Good," said Tyres, handing Daniel and Colton, a husky and Kodiak bear, respectively, the two shotguns. "Alright Jon, let's go out and see what we can find for you. Also, uh, Alice, after we find Jon a weapon, I need to ask a favor..."

1337 Hours; 14:53 Remain

Jon had ended up wielding a sledgehammer. Though it wasn't the most practical weapon, it was effective for the rather large lizard. He held it upside down, at least for the first few hours, as the handle had been converted to a picket sign bearing a message begging for equal rights. In addition to his Hardballer, Tyres had a sheathed machete strapped across his back. Alice didn't even attempt to hide her shotgun, preferring to carry it in plain sight. This in itself was enough for her to get arrested or, more probably, shot, but the giant crowd hid the shotgun from the eyes of the gathering police. Daniel and Colton had both sawn off the barrels of their shotguns and had them strapped to their legs. James had found a crowbar and an axe. He kept the axe in a sling pack, along with several Molotov cocktails. Tyres had his iPod playing several defiant anthems, but his thoughts were not on the music playing, or the crowd around him. No, his thoughts were on the two texts he had sent his parents. Tyres smiled a bit, and soon he came back to his current surroundings.

1:30 PM; Snowy Mountain Ski Resort

Mr. Kith's phone chirped as he rode the lift up the slope. He pulled out the phone to see that his son had sent two messages. The first listed his wife as a recipient, and was quite long. He had a bit till he reached the top, so he read the message. Dear parents; it began, and Mr. Kith gulped. This was not going to be good. _I'm sorry that I had to lie about my plans for the weekend, but it was the only way that this could happen. Needless to say, I'm not out practicing with the lacrosse team. There's a protest, demanding that furs be treated as equal to humans. They deserve to live as good a life as we live. Most of my furry friends are uncertain about when their next meal will be, or where it will come from. This isn't because they're worthless trash that can't get jobs (as you are very fond of pointing out, mom). It's because no one is giving them a chance. The Declaration talks of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness as the natural rights of man. Our society has taken this term literally, not blinking an eye as they forbid furs from having these same rights. I'm sad to say, though, that the only movement for fur rights is violent, which does no good for anyone. Everyone at the "passive protest" is armed. Once the fifteen hours that the government allows furries to have is up, there's going to be a very bloody fight. There's a chance I might not survive to see next week, but I've come to terms with that. The real question is if you have. The protest has just begun. I'm not telling you where it is, but it should be easy to find. I'm sorry it's come to this, but I still love you. Hopefully I'll see you on Sunday night. _

Mr. Kith felt a surge of bile climb up his throat. He choked it back down and exited the message. The other text had only been sent to him, and consisted only of a picture. Mr. Kith opened the file and was greeted with a picture of a pair of exposed fox breasts that appeared to have been taken in his and his wife's bedroom.

When his seat reached the top of the slope, Mr. Kith was unconscious, but other than that seemed to be just fine.

0629 Hours; 0:01 Remain

Green Day's "Horshoes and Handgrenades" poured through the speakers of Tyres's earbuds. He was tired and sweaty after the long night, but about 40 oz of Red Bull surged through his system, and adrenaline combined with ludicrous amounts of caffeine put him on edge. James had a Molotov in one hand and a lighter in the other, waiting for the clocks to strike zero. 0:00:03 flashed on all of the giant digital clocks. Jon, having ditched the sign on the bottom of the sledgehammer long before, itched to let loose his fury; and Daniel and Colton had their shotguns on the draw. When the clock hit 0:00:01, Tyres kissed Alice. "Viva la revolucion," replied Alice, then all hell broke loose.