(Author's Note: In the story this is placed between Chapters 5 and 6. I forgot to upload it here between them.)
***
It was late last year when they'd met. Sydney at the time was in a group called W.A.R. (Women Against Racism), a collective of feminist anti-racist activists from varying shades of political positions. She and several other women had assembled on campus to protest the escalation of state-sponsored xenophobia by ICE agents in the area. In counter-protest was a group of various right-wingers - white nationalists, Neo-Nazis, MRAs, the usual bunch. They were adorned with DIY riot gear packed with the kind of far-right imagery one usually saw amongst this crowd of people - swastikas, Trump stickers, Black Suns, Pepe the Frog, and Southern Nationalist emblems.
Monitoring the area was the local police, and off to the side a group of various far-left activists. Some, to Sydney's great discomfort, were flying Soviet flags.
"Whatever," she thought "A bunch of Bernie Bros. acting tough."
The actual protest itself went on for about fifteen minutes, before the far-right activists decided to start getting in people's faces. It started out with slurs and the generous use of the word "cuck" whatever that was supposed to signify, before the far-right started to push the women there. They started to escalate. Blunt objects were being thrown, in some cases weapons were being pulled. Sydney called out to the police, but the cops did nothing. She looked on shocked, and suddenly caught a hit to the face. She looked up to see one of the far-right goons standing over her.
"Fucking femmoid!" he shouted, holding up her sign over his head, about to swing it down on her.
Suddenly, the goon caught a swift hit to the back of his head. A man, a little taller than Sydney, stood over her, dressed in all black with his face obscured, carrying a small black backpack.
"Hey there," he said, extending his hand. His voice was warm, and despite the situation he had a calm tone "So, these assholes are armed and dangerous. Take my hand, I'll get you out of here."
One of the goons came charging at him, but he threw several calculated punches to their chest and sent them back. Sydney extended her hand, and the man in black pulled her up.
"OK! Get moving, get people out of here!" he shouted.
Several other people were moving the other members of W.A.R. out of the area. The others were forming a human shield between them and the right-wingers. Sydney, feeling a bit dizzy from the hit, had her arm over the stranger's shoulder. The man got her a good distance on foot away from the action, and laid her down against the wall of a building about a quarter mile away.
"You OK?" he asked.
"Kinda dizzy." she said, rubbing her head. The man held up three fingers.
"How many fingers am I holding up?" he asked.
"Th-three," she said "I don't think I got hit that hard."
The man sighed in relief. He opened up his backpack and pulled out a water bottle and some meds.
"Here. Over the counter painkillers. Should help plenty."
Sydney gave him a stern look.
"Don't worry, it's just acetaminophen. I'm not gonna drug you," He reached into his bag and pulled out a small loaf of bread "Also, some food. Good to have when you take medication."
Sydney took the medication and the bread, which was incredibly sweet. She started eating it more vigorously (it didn't help that she'd skipped lunch).
"Delicious!" she said.
"Thanks. It's a melon bread recipe a friend of mine picked up from a trip to China."
She wiped her face clean.
"But why come out to support us? I thought you Berners didn't care for liberals."
The man sighed a bit.
"Just because we don't like the Democratic Party doesn't mean we don't care about the people. If there's some fascists in the area, when they threaten the people, it's our duty as socialists to help. Also, for the record, I don't care for Sanders."
"HEY YOU DIRTY COMMIE!" came a scream.
"And speak of the Devil, they're back for more."
Coming from across the street was a fascist straggler. Guy couldn't have been older than 19, scrawny and white as a q-tip. Sydney got up.
"Sir. Thank you for your help." She started walking towards the fascist, who was now charging.
"Hey wait!" the man in black said.
"FUCKING FEMNAZI CU-" screamed the fascist. Before he could finish, Sydney gave him a firm backhand that sent him on his ass.
He got up and started screaming, "RACE TRAITOR BI-" Bam. One knee to the groin, and another backhand. The fascist teen went down.
Sydney bent down and yelled, "I'm sorry, what were gonna call me?!"
"N-nothing... ma'am." he squealed.
"That's what the hell I thought!" she said, giving him a firm kick to the rib cage.
Sydney walked back over to the man in black.
"Holy shit." he said.
"Yeah well, when your older brother likes to wrestle, you figure out weak points pretty quickly," said Sydney, wiping her hands on her pants. "Thank you so much for the help. I'm almost embarrassed that one of them got the drop on me like that."
A voice called out from the other side of the road.
"Hey!" The two turned. Another man in black, with a slightly bigger build called out.
"We're moving out! Scatter!"
The man in black nodded and turned to Sydney.
"Stay safe, OK?"
He took off.
"Hey wait I didn't even get the chance to..." But by the time she was finished, he'd already jumped a fence and hauled ass. "..thank you."
For the next few weeks, Sydney was thinking about it. A total mystery man, helping her for no reason other than the sake of it. Saving her, for that matter. If he hadn't gotten the jump on that fascist at the rally, she might've wound up with some pretty bad injuries. What was he like? What did he look like? Did he live around here? Would she see him again? Questions she couldn't rightly answer since all she had to go on was a voice. Then, one afternoon, on a stroll with Amanda, she passed a couple men on her way to class and heard it - that warm voice. No mistaking it, that was the mystery man from the rally.
"Hey, I gotta go." she said to Amanda, running off in the opposite direction and carefully maneuvering her way through a crowd of people. She managed to meet the man just outside of his next class. "Excuse me!" she called out.
She panted a bit and held her weight up by grabbing her knees, facing the ground. She looked up, then turned red. Dark, oceanic blue eyes. Earthy dark brown hair. A gorgeous square jawline. Not to mention a well-built physique that looked like it was sculpted by the Romans.
"Holy shit, he's hot."
She held her hand out.
"S-Sydney. Sydney Brednar."
The man shook her hand. "Tom. Tom Vernor."
"Listen, I know this might sound weird but... I think you saved me at a rally a while back."
Tom's eyebrows went north and he whispered to her.
