He looked down upon his ragtag army of waifs and strays, born and reared in the streets, just like him.
Now they had organisation and purpose. No longer fighting among themselves, no longer squabbling over meagre scraps. He had brought them together, united against their common enemy.
From the rooftop he looked at the skyline of the distant metropolis. The tall, modern skyscrapers gleamed under the calm blue sky. This was where the war would play out.
Inside them the rich and powerful had only heard hints and rumours about the coming storm. Murmurs of a leader among the poor who had given up hope in negotiations and politicians and religious salvation. A boy who had decided the only way to achieve real change, real social justice, was through force.
Here, among the colourful concrete, he was king among his people. Now, the time had come to lead them to…
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