#redwaverapture

[redpill-tfs]

Red Wave Rapture

Inspired by the work of @transform4u and his #RedWaveRapture series

Logan slouched on the couch, idly scrolling through his phone. His uncle, Don, stood in the doorway, a familiar expression of exasperation and disappointment on his face.

"Look at you," Don said, shaking his head. "Eighteen years old, just graduated, and doing... nothing."

"I’m figuring things out," Logan muttered, not looking up from his screen.

"Yeah? Figuring out how to waste your life?" Don retorted, stepping into the living room. "You don’t have a job, you don’t have a plan, and frankly, you don’t have any direction. You’re living in my house, eating my food, and playing activist online. That’s not going to cut it, Logan."

Logan groaned and put his phone down. "Here we go again. You’re mad because I’m not living up to your big, conservative expectations."

Don’s face hardened. "Let’s get one thing straight: I’ve tried to be patient with you, but your whole ‘I’m gay and proud’ thing? I don’t get it. Never have, never will. And this whole aimless, rebellious phase of yours isn’t helping anything."

Logan glared at him. "My ‘phase’ isn’t going anywhere. You can be disappointed all you want, but I’m not changing who I am."

Don smirked. "You’re right; I can’t change who you are. But maybe discipline can. Let’s make a bet. You’ve got one month to find a job and stick with it. If you can’t, you’re enrolling in the police academy. Maybe some structure and pride in something bigger than yourself will do you good."

Logan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like I’d ever wear one of those uniforms. Deal. But when I win, you’re going to drop this whole cop thing and let me live my life."

"Fine," Don said, offering his hand. Logan shook it, determined to prove him wrong.

Four weeks later, Logan sat in the passenger seat of Don’s car, his arms crossed as they pulled into the police academy parking lot.

"Guess what?" Don said, his tone smug. "You didn’t get a job, so now it’s time to face the music."

"This is stupid," Logan muttered. "I don’t belong here."

"You belong somewhere, and right now, that’s here," Don said firmly. "Who knows? Maybe you’ll surprise yourself."

The academy’s orientation was every bit as rigid and overwhelming as Logan had feared. The other recruits were clean-cut, driven, and eager to prove themselves, while Logan stuck out like a sore thumb in his skinny jeans and rainbow wristband.

By mid-afternoon, the recruits were herded into a dimly lit auditorium. A commanding instructor addressed the room.

"Recruits," he began, "this is the beginning of your journey. The video you’re about to watch is a core part of your orientation. It’s called Red Wave Rapture, and it will help you understand what it means to be one of us."

Logan stifled a groan as the lights dimmed and the projector flickered to life.

The video began innocuously enough—majestic images of American landscapes, stirring orchestral music, and a deep, commanding narrator’s voice.

"Strength. Honor. Duty," the voice intoned. "These are the values that define us as officers. These are the pillars upon which our nation stands."

Logan smirked at the blatant patriotism but found himself strangely unable to look away. The imagery shifted to officers walking proudly through their communities, citizens cheering them on.

The narrator’s voice seemed to grow louder, more insistent. "You were born for this. To protect. To serve. To stand as a beacon of integrity and strength in a world that needs heroes."

Logan’s smirk faltered. A strange warmth spread through his chest, and his breathing slowed as the words seemed to penetrate his mind.

"Let go of doubt," the voice continued. "Let go of weakness. Embrace your destiny."

Logan’s gaze fixed on the screen as the images and words washed over him. The rainbow wristband on his arm caught his eye, and for the first time, it felt out of place.

"You are no longer an individual," the narrator declared. "You are part of the Red Wave, united by duty and honor."

Logan felt a strange, undeniable pull, as though the words were reshaping him from the inside out.

The images on the screen shifted to young recruits stepping into their uniforms, their expressions proud and confident. Logan could almost see himself in their place, wearing the uniform, standing tall, and exuding pride.

"Rise," the narrator commanded. "Rise and become who you were always meant to be."

Logan’s body tensed as a surge of energy coursed through him. His thoughts swirled, and his resistance crumbled under the relentless rhythm of the narrator’s voice.

When the lights came back on, Logan blinked, disoriented. He glanced down at his wristband, removed it without a second thought, and slipped it into his pocket.

By the end of the day, Logan had changed in ways that startled even him. He volunteered for every exercise, pushed himself harder than he ever thought possible, and began forming bonds with his fellow recruits.

That evening, Don met him at home with a curious look.

"How was your first day?" Don asked, sipping his coffee.

Logan’s posture was straighter, his expression more serious. "It was... eye-opening. I think I was wrong about this place. It’s exactly what I needed."

Don raised an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised. "Well, I’ll be damned. Maybe there’s hope for you after all."

Logan hesitated, then added, "And, uh... about the other stuff. You were right about that, too. It doesn’t really fit who I’m becoming." He took his rainbow wristband and threw it in the trashcan.

Don’s face broke into a grin. "Now that’s what I like to hear."

Over the following weeks, Logan’s transformation continued. He excelled in his training, adopted a clean-cut appearance, and fully embraced the academy’s values. His once vibrant and outspoken personality gave way to a disciplined, no-nonsense demeanor.

More than that, his priorities had shifted entirely. He no longer identified with his old self, instead finding pride and purpose in his role as a recruit. His previous liberal and rebellious views seemed laughable now, relics of a misguided youth.

Graduation day arrived quickly, and Logan stood tall in his new uniform, his badge gleaming on his chest. Don stood in the audience, beaming with pride.

After the ceremony, Don pulled him aside.

"Look at you," he said, shaking his head in amazement. "You’re everything I hoped you’d become."

Logan smiled, his stance confident and assured. "Thanks, Uncle Don. I couldn’t have done it without you."

"And I wouldn’t want it any other way," Don replied, clapping him on the shoulder.

Logan posed for a photo in front of a big American flag, standing proudly in his uniform. As Don looked at the image, he felt a deep sense of satisfaction.

His nephew was no longer the aimless, defiant gay boy he had taken in. He was now a man of discipline, duty, and conservatism—a man Don could be proud to call family.

And for Logan, the uniform didn’t just represent his new role. It represented his transformation, a testament to the strength and pride he had discovered within himself.