Chapter One: America, 2037
The nation was in shambles, rocked by conflict and corruption. The Republican Party had been in control of the White House for two decades, and their rule had seen America descend into turmoil. The 2034 election of Louis Moor was hardly a victory for the Republicans, whose use of voter suppression outraged the nation, leading to the three day “Red November” riots that wreaked havoc on the Capitol. A year-long war with the Russian terrorist group VL-16 made Moor extremely unpopular, and the anti-free speech acts he had passed to silence the outcry against the war made him hated. His Vice President, Fabian Hall, had called for the imprisonment of anti-war activists, which had been met with mass protests across the nation. The protests had been deemed illegal, and thousands of protesters had been arrested. Meanwhile, mass deportations have severely hurt the U.S. economy, which was already in debt from the conflict with VL-16. Far-right Senator Brigham Wall of Oklahoma saw the opportunity to gain power in a country that had become a police state with no money, a country ripe for conflict.
Chapter Two: The Banner of Liberation
In March of 2037, Senator Brigham announced that he was leaving the Republican Party to create the Knights of American Liberation Party, known as “Kalp,” with notorious white supremacist Jonah Clay. Wall was running for President on the Kalp ticket. He held his first rally on March 15, 2037, in Oklahoma City with a crowd of almost 2,000. Wall proclaimed that he would “ensure White Americans [would be] protected and respected,” to which the crowd cheered in agreement. The flag of Kalp, a blue circle with thirteen white stars arranged in a circle, in the center of the stripes on the American flag, was seen flying above the headquarters of the U.S. Nazi Party, flapping in the breeze next to the swastika.
The following week, President Moor journeyed to Oklahoma City to make a long, anticipated speech condemning Senator Wall. As Moor walked down the steps of the Oklahoma Capitol building at 2 o’clock on March 19, 2037, beneath a blue sky, shots rang out. The crowd ran in all directions as shots continued to ring out. Moor collapsed, his red blood splashing on the white steps. Secret Service officers rushed towards Moor, swarming around the dying president. Sirens wailed as both the police and Secret Service jumped out of their cars and into the streets, armed with assault rifles. The ground shook at the same time as the Oklahoma Capitol building exploded, followed by a thunderous boom. Marble and bricks shot up into the air, raining down upon the street. The air was filled with screams, and even some of the police officers fled the scene, joining the stampede. Where the Capitol building had stood only moments before was a burning heap of rubble and rock, from which black smoke rose up, settling above the city like a blanket of darkness. The retreating crowd looked up as a small blue plane circled around them, dropping bright pink leaflets onto the streets. They read in bold, black letters: Save our land, save our race: Vote Kalp!
Chapter Three: The Deathbed of Democracy
For the first time in over 70 years, an American President had been assassinated, shot to death on the steps of the Oklahoma Capitol building in front his supporters, through an act of domestic terrorism. The bombing of the Capitol building was an integral part of the terrorist attack, claiming thirty-eight lives, civilians, and President Moor alike. Moor’s assassination marked the transfer of the presidency from one authoritarian leader to another, as Vice President Fabian Hall was sworn in as President hours after Moor was killed. Hall, who had been a well-known believer of totalitarian control over the populus, immediately ordered the suspension of freedom of speech and habeas corpus, and had six of the nine Supreme Court Justices arrested for declaring his actions unconstitutional. The nation was too shocked and weakened by the OKC attacks, financial crises, and Hall’s draconian laws to speak out against the President. America’s former allies were divided over what to do. Should they fight terrorism but back the Hall regime, or condemn Hall but risk fueling the terrorists? The world did nothing and watched as America crumbled.
Back in the U.S., Brigham Wall was using the attack on the OKC to gain supporters and influence. Wall denied any responsibility in the attack, stating that the plane that dropped Kalp leaflets was sent to “comfort the victims with a message of hope,” leaving questions about how quickly the plane came to the site of the violence unanswered. In rallies across the country, Wall took advantage of the post-attack fear, telling supporters in Utah that “attacks against America and the white people of America [would] not go unpunished.”
The biggest moment of the early days of Wall’s campaign came when he held a rally in New Mexico only five miles outside the Zuni reservation in May. Thousands of Zuni protesters faced off with eight thousand Wall supporters at the rally, many of whom were armed Neo-Nazis. Before the rally even began, fighting broke out. A gang of Neo-Nazi skinheads hurled molotov cocktails at the protesters, injuring dozens of unarmed people. The Zuni protesters ran from the Neo-Nazis and into Wall’s private thugs, who attacked them with metal clubs and pepper spray before moving on towards the rally.
When the rally finally started after a three hour delay, it had been fortified by Wall’s private thugs, who set up barricades of rocks, concrete, and barbed wire. Wall began to speak but was soon interrupted by the boos of protesters who were joined by hundreds of activists from the nearby Navajo reservation. Violence once again broke out. Wall supporters showered the protesters with beer bottles and stones as the protesters swarmed over the barricades into the rally.
A young Zuni activist named Clyde Sullivan jumped on the stage and pushed Wall into the chaotic crowd. Grabbing the microphone, he yelled, “Terrorists and racists! Go home, Brigham!” before being dragged off the stage by the mob of Neo-Nazis. Wall, protected by a few supporters, escaped the riot, and was whisked away in his van.
The fighting raged on, spilling out into the parking lot and onto the highway. The state police soon arrived in riot gear under orders from New Mexico governor, Jane Dawson, who was a vocal supporter of Brigham Wall and Kalp.
“All protesters must stop attacking Mr. Wall’s supporters at once,” the police roared through bullhorns.
Wall’s supporters continued beating the protesters, while the state police watched and did nothing. Rivers of Zuni and Navajo blood trickled across the tarmac, crimson ribbons that laced the black asphalt. The screams of the protesters filled the air like smoke as their hands were placed in handcuffs, their legs in shackles, their bodies in chains. The Neo-Nazis cheered as the protesters were carted off to prison by the state police, the law in a police state.
Brigham Wall praised the “heroic actions” of the state police officers, who “displayed courage and necessary force in the face of anti-white terrorism.” He did not mention that the violence at his New Mexico rally was started by his supporters.
Meanwhile, in the White House, Fabian Hall was passing more fascist legislations in response to the violence in New Mexico. It prompted thousands of Americans to amass at the Canadian border in New York, begging Canada’s border patrol to let them into Canada.
American immigration into Canada, much of it illegal, had skyrocketed since 2020, when then-President Donald Trump postponed the 2020 election because of so so-called “voter fraud” in the previous election. It rose again six years later, when China declared an embargo on the U.S. because of American nuclear testing in the South China Sea, which devastated the United State’s economy. Now, U.S. immigration to Canada was swelling yet again as white supremacists and a fascist President trampled on the constitution as they had twenty years before. American refugees filled the woods of northern New York, living in makeshift camps, in a state of limbo. Democracy was on its deathbed.
Chapter Four: The URF
In May, a few weeks after the fighting at the New Mexico Wall rally, in a dilapidated building in the slums of the now nearly empty Brooklyn, a dozen activists met to create a new organization.
“In 1972, the Black Panthers declared the need for a united front of all oppressed peoples,” began Clyde Sullivan, the Zuni protester who had pushed Brigham Wall off the stage in New Mexico. “Today, with the Neo-Nazis in control of our country and their terrorist attacks being a threat to us all, we are creating that front.”
The small group of activists nodded in agreement.
“We are a revolutionary organization,” he continued. “Our goals are to reclaim this land from the fascist regime and the European colonizers who have oppressed the poor and minorities on this continent for 550 years. We will fight the U.S. regime on physical and digital fronts. We will spread justice to the oppressed. We are the URF: the United Revolutionary Front!”
The new members of the URF cheered.
Clyde waited for the cheers to end and continued, “Our first target is Columbus Circle, a symbol of colonial oppression that is currently held by Hall’s police…”
That night, as torrents of rain lashed their backs, the members of the URF crept through the police barricades, and past a lone and oblivious policeman. They gazed up at the statue of Christopher Columbus, which Fabian Hall’s regime had attached a massive American flag to. Clyde led the URF party to the the statue. Without saying a word, they silently laced the statue’s base with explosives. Clyde and the URF slipped out of Columbus Circle and into the darkness. Behind them, the statue exploded. Flames shot into the black sky.
“The revolution has begun,” declared Clyde.
Columbus’s head crashed against the pavement, shattering into a thousand pieces of burning rock.
“The revolution has begun,” he repeated. “The revolution has begun.”