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The rich flames illuminated the night sky of Saratov as countless people, torches in hand, surged towards the city government building, demanding an explanation.
This was a massive riot. The streets were filled with people, and the police tasked with suppression blocked the protest march. Holding a megaphone made of tin, the Chief of Police stood on higher ground and shouted, "Everyone disperse immediately! Or else we will take forceful measures! This is your last warning! Everyone disperse imme...."
"Go to hell!"
Among the curses, a fist-sized stone flew rapidly, hitting the Chief of Police squarely on the forehead. With a 'thud,' he fell to the ground.
"Beat down those lackeys raised by the nobility!!!"
Angry citizens brandishing iron shovels and wooden sticks charged forward, clashing with the police. Chaos ensued on the streets, and the police, loyal to the King, couldn't hold back the enraged populace, retreating step by step, on the brink of collapse.
Drip—
Drip—
