A half dozen meters underfoot, a glass ceiling was quickly fragmenting and readying to collapse onto the gala of city elites gathered below.
Tonight, his revolution began.
Shoulders were slapped and the thumbs up “ready” signal was given. Long ropes flew out of the helicopter and the rebels jumped their way into history.
His boots hit the ground, glass crackled under foot.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began. He looked over the banners on the walls. Looked over the crowd. He panicked and signaled his band of revolutionaries to retreat with haste.
“Wrong place!” He shouted.
The revolution was slightly delayed.