The battles had been intense, bloody, long. When they had finally risen up, the wee ones, the repressed, the adults didn't see it coming. Such as this was the realm of the story books, of horror novels. Children of the Corn, Village of the Damned. It wasn't supposed to happen in reality. Children were innocent right? Free of the silliness of adult troubles. Of war and anger and lust for power. They played and laughed and sang and did what their elders asked of them. Right?
Not this time.
They took the adults by surprise, and for that it was close, but in the end those small ones prevailed. They fought viciously and without remorse, and she had led them through it. She had kept them together when all had seem lost. She had kept their spirits up and their morale high. She had led the charge dressed in pink, a fiery demon in angelic disguise.
It was her city now. She handed out the spoils of war and smiled. It was her city now and it was going to be a city of legend.
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