Stolen Liberties & Echoes of Freedom: Chapter 7

The morning air in Washington, DC, hung heavy with anticipation as the crowd gathered on the National Mall. The estimated numbers had already swelled past 150,000. The colors of American flags dotted the sea of people, an unmistakable show of solidarity and patriotism. This was no ordinary rally; it was a stand for the Constitution and a plea for a return to values that many believed were slipping away.

Ben and Pat, along with a few trusted team leaders—Rick, a former Marine; Sue, a tech wizard from the Midwest; and Leo, a local organizer—stood near the Washington Monument. They hadn’t been expecting this many people but felt the weight of their presence, as if the entire nation’s hopes were compressed into these few square miles.

On stage, Steve Bannon took a moment before he began speaking, scanning the crowd. His eyes held a fire that no one could ignore, a fire kindled by belief in the Constitution and the nation’s founding ideals. The crowd quieted as he stepped forward, raising his hand to signal the beginning of his speech.

“My fellow Americans,” he began, his voice booming, “we are here to remind this country that the Constitution is not a piece of paper to be thrown away. It’s the backbone of our freedom, the document that protects our God-given rights.”

Cheers erupted, and chants of “U-S-A! U-S-A!” rippled through the masses.

“We’ve come together not in anger but in resolve,” Bannon continued, his voice tightening with emotion. “Resolve to stand firm for the principles that make us who we are. Today, we reclaim the promise of America!”

Pat could see some of the crowd members with tears in their eyes, touched by the raw power of Bannon’s words. For a moment, it seemed like a wave of unity washed over everyone. People were here for something peaceful, something hopeful—a message to their leaders that the people hadn’t forgotten their founding promise.

But not everyone shared that vision. Out of the corner of his eye, Ben noticed a group of black-clad figures moving through the crowd. Antifa agitators, mixed with other regime operatives, had slipped in, their faces obscured by masks, carrying an air of trouble.

Before anyone could react, the chaos erupted.

Smoke bombs were thrown, and the sharp crack of rubber bullets echoed through the air as government forces moved in on the edges of the rally, pushing back the crowd with a wall of shields. Patriots stood firm, some shouting, others just standing their ground, refusing to give an inch.

Bannon’s voice cut through the chaos. “Stand strong! Stand strong!” he called, his voice a lifeline for those looking to him. But the shoving quickly escalated as the regime forces pressed forward, trying to force the rally into disarray.

Pat was shoulder to shoulder with Ben, holding their ground, but neither one wanted this to become violent. They knew the goal was peace. It wasn’t about clashing with anyone—it was about making a statement.

Suddenly, there was a sound that sliced through the noise—a gunshot, then another. The crowd froze, heads whipping around in confusion. People looked at one another, panic beginning to seep in. No one knew where the shots had come from, and that uncertainty spread like wildfire.

Then, the unmistakable chop of rotor blades approached. Pat looked up to see two dark, military helicopters slicing through the sky, hovering over the rally like ominous specters. The crowd’s resolve shifted to anxiety, an understanding sinking in that this might not end as peacefully as they’d hoped.

Bannon looked out over the crowd, his face etched with a grim determination. He raised his voice one last time, his tone heavy with a sense of foreboding. “Remember this, patriots: today may not be our victory, but our day will come.”

People began moving, retreating in waves as the helicopters descended closer, their presence undeniable. Pat and Ben exchanged a quick glance, a silent understanding that it was time to go. They melted back with the crowd, their small team of leaders staying close as they moved away from the scene.

In the distance, Pat caught a glimpse of Bannon slipping away through the crowd, pursued by a line of National Guard troops who had zeroed in on him. Ben gave him a nod. “He’ll get out. He’s got this.”

As the group made their way down the streets of DC, blending into the thousands heading home, there was a heaviness in the air—a feeling that something monumental had been set in motion. The rally hadn’t gone as planned, but it had awakened something in everyone there, a conviction that wouldn’t fade away with the morning’s chaos.

As Pat looked back one last time, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. The DC rally had ended in chaos, but he and Ben had accomplished what they came for. Plans had been set in motion, and allies across the nation were prepared to ignite the fires of revolution. The people were ready, and everyone understood that the spark could come from any corner of the country. All it would take was one move—a gun confiscation order, another high-profile arrest—and the nation would erupt.

They had just received word that Trump and Musk were now in hiding, sheltering from the latest warrant issued for Trump’s arrest. The regime had concocted yet another federal charge against him, making a spectacle of accusations that everyone knew were fabricated. By now, people were used to these tactics—indicting “a ham sandwich” had become a bitter joke among the movement. The masses understood what was happening, and despite the regime’s relentless attempts to control the narrative, people hungered for real information.

The internet, though still up, had transformed into a tightly controlled network. Censorship had reached unprecedented levels, with mainstream platforms shadowing anything that veered even slightly off the regime’s message. Still, information found its way through, even if it took an extra day or two. Underground channels, encrypted messaging, and an old-fashioned network of person-to-person communications had taken the place of mainstream news, spreading the truth with fierce urgency.

But news from Oregon had sparked a unique tension. The state’s governor had announced plans for a sweeping gun confiscation effort, targeting Eastern Oregon. Reports were flooding in of unrest in small towns and rural communities, and tensions were high. One story, though, was on everyone’s lips: a young girl, barely a teenager, had taken her own life after being forced into gender transition surgery. Her parents, who had tried desperately to resist, were deemed “abusive” under Oregon’s strict laws mandating parental compliance. They had been arrested, and the story had cut deep, igniting outrage that reverberated far beyond Oregon’s borders.

Eastern Oregon had become a tinderbox, an unflinching symbol of defiance against government overreach. Pat and Ben had heard from their contacts in Oregon that, in four days, their forces would be ready to act. They weren’t aiming for chaos—they were prepared to take a stand, to demand accountability from leaders who had abandoned their duty to protect the people. Oregon, it seemed, would be the place where the movement truly began.

For now, Pat and Ben made their way back to Texas, the place where they would regroup and continue planning. As they drove south, the landscape of the nation seemed to shift with each passing mile, filled with the quiet tension of a country on the brink. They knew the risk. They knew the cost. But they were prepared, and they knew that the battle for America’s future was only beginning.

Next Chapter, Chapter 8

Chapter Links

Chapter 1 page 1
Chapter 1 Page 2
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6 page 1
Chater 6 page 2
Chapter 6 page 3
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9 page 1
Chapter 9 page 2
Chapter 10

Hey, Sgt. K here—also known as CK Sheldon. I’ve got one book published on Amazon as part of a trilogy, though only the first is currently available due to editing challenges. I’m working on bringing the other two books back, using ChatGPT to refine them, and I’ll likely add this new book there, too, if there’s interest. Since this isn’t about profit for me, you can always read it here on Whatfinger News for free, complete with the original links.

For anyone interested, my Amazon book is Allfather Saga. Fair warning: it’s a mix of science fiction, politics, and a bit of mature content. And yes, Trump makes an appearance in Book 3, though the story is set far into the future.

Untraceable phone – you need to see this Glenn Beck Vid with Erik Prince – See You Have a TRACKER in Your Pocket Sending Data to the Deep State – might be the MOST important vid you see this year – might save your life folks – your kids too – you’ll get it and the details will freak you out. It did me. …  Sgt Pat
https://unplugged.com/ is Prince’s company.