Rundo's spot

The infamous Unite the Right Rally was the next big one. I was not able to attend this event, but a few comrades did so to protest the removal of the Robert E. Lee monument there and the concomitant erasure of White history. The event has been highly publicized enough and I don't think I need to get into details. These are the main events that the FBI used against us because of the targeted media campaign that was waged against us. The final part of this essay will be the fallback we were dealt in the aftermath of a huge media campaign and the eventual FBI manhunt to imprison us all.

Fireworks and bottles began getting hurled over the police barrier at us. An M80 exploded between me and an older flag-waving woman, sending her stumbling backwards in fright. "Nazi scum, off our streets!" was screeched at the top of their lungs by an assortment of fat lesbians with purple hair and black-masked Antifa. The tension thickened until it was all you could taste. The riot police that separated the two sides began to disperse back to their patrol cars, looking on passively. A "stand down" order was most likely given in hopes left-wing mob would wipe us out so the liberal stronghold of Berkeley could happily live on without us "right-wing nuisances". This is what they hoped for at least, but that day they didn't expect our new breed of nationalist.

An older guy with American-flag biker jackets got pulled over the flimsy plastic barricade to the enemy side where he was immediately pummeled by the black-masked college kids. Again we lead the resistance and sprang over to defend the fallen man. We stuck close to each other, as orange streams of mace sprayed out at us when we came into their lines. Bottles got flung, punches were thrown, and shortly, in seconds, we were left standing together as the frenzied left-wing mob backed away from us. One shaggy haired kid held his nose as blood oozed through his fingers spilling onto his Communist t-shirt, the look of shock screaming from his teary eyes. we recovered the fallen man and slowly made our way back to our side of the park, and were welcomed with applause and pats on the back. A grey-bearded man wearing a veteran hat came over shaking our hands, and he said, "Thank you boys for being here."

More showed up to counter us this time welding skateboards and clubs. Yvette Felarca, a well-known Antifa organizer showed up and began stirring up the left-wing mob as she screamed Antifa slogans through loudspeakers. Emboldened by their numbers and weapons, they pushed to set off another altercation.
We gladly meet them again, smashing our way through there side of the event, and everyone on the patriots' side of the event began sticking together now. The Antifa banner that Yvette Felarca brought got snatched by one on our side, and we kept it. They swung clubs, we swung fists, but they swung wildly while we swung with aim.

Within minutes, the outcome went our way and the left-wing mob began to disperse, running in all directions through the streets. The last bit of black-clad Antifa were being removed from the park when police come from behind us. And, without warning, I was body-slammed by a riot cop and punched while on the ground. blood trickled from my lip but I couldn't wipe it, as cuffs were now tightly secured around my wrists. The cop alleged that I assaulted him. I was walked to the police van with no regrets as I held my head high. Our side chants, "Let him go let him go," as I was marched to the back of a police van. I was booked on the fictitious charges of assault on an officer (later these were dropped, as this did not happen and video footage showed it).

I made bail a few hours later when my comrades went through the crowd asking for donations to get me out, and in solidarity the people gave what they had in their pockets.

Although I was not able to see the day through, my comrades told me all about the rest of the events of that day on the drive home and showed me the footage that was now viral all over Youtube and social media. That day would come to be known as "The Battle of Berkeley".

Whether it was directly or indirectly related to that day, there seemed to be awakening in the White American consciousness. There was a turn in the tide. The Alt-Right scene and nationalist scene seemed to explode all over the country. People started coming out to demonstrations more, and not allowing themselves anymore to become victims.

Then there were events in support of free speech and Trump that were becoming the main target of violence. I remember one event were an older White woman wearing an American jersey was outside the Trump Tower and was surrounded by a left-wing mob of dark faces all taking turns spitting on her face and throwing trash. I can go on, but you should already get the point that things were looking bad and little resistance was being put up against it.


Huntington Beach, California


A "Make America Great Again" demonstration was going on in our home city and we decided to attend. It was for the newly elected President that everyone had high hopes for at the time. A handful of us decided to attend regardless of the risks we knew from seeing how countless other events turned out. We showed up bringing a banner that read "Defend America" with various symbols crossed out such as the Communist flag, Antifa flag, and so on. On arrival we were immediately greeted by the others in attendance as the vast majority of the crowd were older and glad to see some clean-cut youth participating. Shortly into the demonstration Antifa arrived and quickly scuffles broke out with a Black guy sucker-punching a White highschool kid that was there with his parents. A shoving match began and a black-clad protester began spraying mace into the crowd, leaving a sixty-year-old woman falling to the ground. I went after the guy who sprayed the mace and another, in the process getting blinded by a stream of mace myself— but I kept up the offensive.

We stood our ground and defended ourselves and the cowardly left-wing protesters were forced to leave the beach after taking a beating. A few even had to have police escorts to protect them on their way out. It was a victory that we all celebrated. But the next day, the images of me on top of the Antifa guy, punching him into the sand, went viral — making it to front-page news across the country. Of course the headlines and media all cried that we were the ones starting violence, but that's expected when the media shares the same values and masters as our opponents did that day.

Despite all the bad press we still continued to grow and gain support. We focused on our goals promoting the nationalist lifestyle, holding weekly trainings and seminars. The next event we were invited to was in the left-wing stronghold of Berkeley. The prior free-speech event that was held there turned into mayhem as fires were set in the street, the windows of UC Berkeley were busted out, and anyone that came to support of the right wing was forced to flee or get assaulted. It's important to point out that these are not nationalist events per se, but regular "normie" pro-American participants getting assaulted.

The Battle Of Berkeley

People from all over the State were expected to come to support both sides of the demonstration. Of course we were the heavy underdogs coming in. There wasn't any demonstrations to this point where the right were able to truly march freely or even hold an event without supporters being attacked. All of that was about to change now that a small group of determined individuals would not allow themselves to become victims.

Once again we unrolled our banner and came, knowing the risks, and still marched into the event with our heads high. Like last time, we were warmly greeted by the mix of patriots and for a second our foes on the other side got quiet, seeing a neatly organized column of fit clean-cut White youth walking proud, a rare sight in the United States these days. Like last time, it wasn't long until things began to escalate. The size of the counter-protestors and Antifa dwarfed ours, and quickly they resorted to their common tactics of intimidation.

Through My Eyes (Part I)

By Robert Rundo


Two flash-bang grenades smashed through my bedroom window landing on the floor besides me jolting me from sleep. In seconds, hands grabbed my feet— dragging me out of my bed under the steady aim of automatic rifles. My bare torso got snagged with shards of glass from my blown out window that now lay sprinkled across my bed and floor.

"Hands on your head or we shoot! do it right fuckin' now!" was barked at me from one of the armor-clad cops that stood over me.
Although the room was dark and I was disoriented, I could sense where their guns were aimed, I could feel the impact of where the bullets would rip through me, and my body braced for it. At that moment, 3AM on a weekday, all illusions of safety or freedom left my mind forever. This distorted vision of America was no longer anything close to the dream I've been brought up on, but a nightmare fed to us through late-night television commercials, accompanied with slogans like "land of the free, home of the brave" which they have cheapened and emptied of all meaning. What that really translates to, in the false, globalist version of the new "America" they are creating, is the "freedom" to consume as much product as one possibly can, "brave" enough to march next to your favorite hollywood celebrities in a corporation sponsored protest.

Put this cherished mantra of "freedom of speech" to the test, stand for something outside the assemblyline-packaged thought and see where it leads you. It lead me to being handcuffed facedown in my boxers while SWAT stormed my apartment kicking in doors and coming through windows. It lead me to losing the woman I loved, the job I worked the apartment I lived, it lead me to getting kidnapped and shackled by FBI agents in South America, it lead me to having my face in documentaries and on the news as the most hated man in America, and finally it lead me to where they put people that speak too loud go, a place for those that remain defiant against their agenda. It was in an isolated 8ft by 11ft concrete box with cell bars and watchful guards that I got a deeper understanding of their globalist revision of the "American dream".

Now all this sounds a bit dramatic right? One must have done something awful to get this treatment, no? I'll let you decide as I describe the events that lead up to those moments.

My name is Robert Rundo. I am known as one of the founders of Rise Above Movement (RAM). RAM was nothing more than a nationalist athletic club, having weekend work-outs, practicing in boxing, MMA and weights. Our values were simple: be the change you want to see, embrace the warrior spirit of our ancestors, and reject the poisonous values of the Cultural Marxist mentality. RAM was unlike many other movements or groups in America at the time. Our goal wasn't to be edgy or shocking, we didn't play dress up like it was the 1930's. Nor did wear a suite and tie to try to blend in with the treacherous politicians. We understood it is a culture war that is being waged against us. So we set out to create our own counterstrike against the backdrop of the destructive one pushed by the left. Rejecting their ideals of consumerism, drug use, apathy, White guilt and a slew of others they use to enslave us. We took to street activism, banner drops with patriotic messages, passing flyers, holding weekly meetings to promote a healthy lifestyle, promotional videos and so on.

When we first started, President Trump was newly elected and protests and riots broke out across the country in liberal enclaves. Anybody that wasn't for the radical left was deemed a Nazi and therefore was made an acceptable target to harrass or assault, something which happened over and over. The anti-White agenda was now playing out in the public eye. Incidents like a old White man being ripped out of his car and beaten in the street like a dog, or the kidnap and torture of a White student by black captors as they filmed, while laughing and shouting "fuck White people", became all too commonplace.

will be putting out something on this , about being on the run , being kidnapped , and exotic travel