Leaving his office, Gronk rounded a corner to meet the Pinkshirts. There were about five hundred men in ranks eight deep, all the way down the High Street. Destructors were parked to the sides. Gronk had been working on combat uniforms for this very moment. The usual black boots, black trousers and a ‘V’ of pink shirts were still there. Sinister with a hint of style. Why change a design success like that? The fashion-Commander had rhetorically asked himself. Because I’m clever enough to ask a question which had no answer. Yes, I really am that intelligent. But the combat jackets were different. In disruptive pattern material, they had been transformed into a pink and black camouflage. Many more had new haircuts. The ones with hair, anyway. Bowl-cut black hair, like Gronk’s, was the way ahead. All the others wore black woolly hats to mimic his hairstyle, which looked almost as good to Gronk. He stood before his men. As silence descended, Gronk took a long moment to speak. He stuck his lips out and moved them about. Raising his eyebrows, he cleared his throat.
Continue reading “Leader”