Alsatian Island
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The Party for Our Freedom, the True Conservative group, and the Renewal Front all participated in the march in Brantley, which descended into chaotic riots
Over 10,000 people participated in the march on the city of Brantley, in Becksidestow (near the city centre), with counter-protesters numbering similarly following an unprecedented use of social media in order to co-ordinate the efforts on both sides.
The march began at 8h30, with ringleader Irmen Elstree shouting "Down with the socialists! Out with the gays!" on a tannoy system, while counterprotests - including from the LGBTQ+ community, trades unions and the Atlish Society for Humanism - marched in the opposite direction. The barricade between the two groups held up until about 9h10, when one far-right protester punched a counter-protester, resulting in a group of five throwing down the barricade and "beating the far-right protester dead;" - a further 57 people are said to have died at the event. A crush took place in the far-right protest, causing most of the deaths, while a counter-protester wrongly identified a man identified as Green-Left councillor Ingwer West, 53, as a fascist, with him dealing West a severe head injury with a rock from the ground. Far-right protesters set fire to 3 police cars, and a rudimentary bottle bomb was thrown at the roof of the Becksidestow council building, luckily hitting nobody but causing serious damage to the front wall and part of the roof of the building.
The event was cleared out at 10h00 mostly peacefully, however police made numerous arrests in the city centre, including that of Elstree. The police confirmed that the state would be prosecuting several individuals for conspiracy to commit terrorist actions, following revealed information from several unidentified members of the gang's phones, with the government applauding the police's effort to "prevent a potentially deadly attack on Armston House." Details of the attack purportedly included storming the House by force, burning it down, and taking the King hostage, hoping to use him for leverage to influence government policies, in particular on race, social rights and immigration.
The government have called the march "abhorrent fascist noise", urged for peace and also for communities to "name and shame" far-right protesters involved in violence on the day, with Forethane Harold Osborne making a national address at 18h00 and 8h00 the following day to "resolutely oppose fascist thuggery and call for calm in these escalated times."
DAY 1... somewhere, about 15h30
"Where... where the fuck am I?"
White.
That was the first thing Irmen noticed.
"What the fuck?" Her clothes were white. She... didn't know how that had happened, and could swear she'd worn anything but these. The room was... uncomfortably small, but not quite claustrophobic, and white. The door was white, in the far corner. She stumbled off her feet, somewhat delirious - "the bastards... they drugged me?... who drugged me?" - and slumped into the bathroom door, falling into a smaller but decidedly also white room. The floor was flat and smooth, the wall was flat and smooth, even the sink and taps were smooth, so the floor bloody hurt.
Limply dragging her body into the main room again, Irmen realised she had a slight... itch, on her wrist? Looking down, was a particularly joyless watch - white, of course - telling her of the time, 15h30... ish. The minute hand wasn't moving at all, and she had stared at it for easily a minute or two.
Only when getting up did she suddenly notice how cold she was - bitterly cold, almost as a stabbing feeling across her skin, the short-sleeved shirt and trousers being woefully inadequate for what felt like a Fjármagn winter localised in her Brantley room in June. She was still in Brantley, right?
It was supposed to be the summertide, so how on earth? They even did that too?
"It's a fucking torture room! I knew those fucking red bast-"... the realisation hit home. "Ohhhhhhh, fuck off, no."
Slipping into a sense of frenzied panic, she checked her pockets. Nothing at all, except a small note.
7A.2: 1615
"... huh."She looked above her. What looked like... glowing tubes, white. She had wondered why there were no shadows - clearly that was why.
Sitting on the white bedsheet, she looked around her small room. It was maybe... three, four metres across, square, perhaps a little further towards the door than wide, with a far smaller room cut out of the square for a rudimentary bathroom. A basic table - which looked as if it was a white-painted amlø flatpack table, complete with a couple of drawers that she reached to verify the emptiness of - was spaced about a metre from her bed, about a metre from the far end of the room, backed up against the wall for the bathroom.
Getting up, she knocked on either side of her room on the walls. "Surely some fucker's stuck in here with me?!" No response.
Running over to what she presumed was the one door out of the room, she banged on it, for far too long. No response.
A second time, with the side of her fist this time, far louder. No response. "HELLO?!"
A pause, catching her breath.
A third time, this time by kicking and punching it in a peculiar display of fright-fuelled anger, the irregular noise filling the room with dull noise. No response. "KINDLY, ANYONE, IS ANYONE THERE?"
A fourth time, this time by banging her head once against the door, a little too hard. She convulsed in pain, grabbing at her head and slipping to the floor, her hands covered in red as she brought them down to her shocked eyes, before completely losing consciousness, though not before seeing a guard's padded shoes next to her head as the door opened.
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