A Greater Man

It is said that a good man is not a harmless man, but a dangerous man who has himself under voluntary control; a great man, however, some say is a good man that utilises his danger to the benefit of the wellbeing and safety of his loved ones and his neighbours; a greater man, or a foolish man in the eyes of some, is a harmless man that will that will, in spite of the lack of danger he possesses, still utilise what he can offer exactly as a great man would.

This is the story of such a man, one Jonathon J. Miller of Blakestown, a city in New England, who stood five-foot-five, having had a small build lacking both muscle and fat, antisocial, and a small fuzz on his top lip the only sign of facial hair. Not the typical character one would think of as a hero, and yet his final actions ensured he would be known as one in Blakestown so long as the city stood.

Terrorised by the Warlock Ryders, as they called themselves, the people, police, and politicians alike were all too afraid to stand up to the small yet aggressive gang. Their name was due the claim that their leader was an Englishman with a knack for a sorcery developed by the Celtic Britons. Members of the gang would tattoo their bodies with blue Celtic symbols, akin to the Celtic warpaint of old.

On one evening, the Ryders wanted a young boy, a child, to sell illegal drugs, as they had done many times before; the crime would be pinned entirely on the child, if caught, as they would never dare split on Ryders, not with such horror stories related to the gang and their leader.

This child, however, said one two-letter word that surprised the Ryders, a word they were not familiar with: the boy said 'no.'

Four Ryders there were that evening, four-to-one, and they began to beat the boy, which they planned to do until that 'no' became a 'yes.' This was the time Jonathon J. Miller walked by, and saw the beating. As any other in Blakestown would have, he could have simply kept on walking, which he did at first, but began to slow his stride and eventually change turn back around to face the gangsters---he saw a wrong affecting his neighbours, and decided to take a stand. He walked right up to the Ryders, and told them, no, he demanded of them to stop, to leave the boy alone.

Leave the boy alone they did, who fled bruised and bloodied the moment the hands gripped upon his jacket loosened, as the Ryders had found a new prey. No matter how much they beat him, Jonathon never stayed down, never accepting defeat, not until death had taken him. Some saw this, but chose to walk on by, ashamed as they did so.

The tale quickly spread across Blakestown, the tale of a boy that stood up to the Warlock Ryders, and the man, a greater or foolish man, that died to save him.

This tale caused something to grow within the people, a rage and pain that had been shackled down by fear, but was no longer shackled. They were not afraid anymore.

To the streets the people took themselves, aided by the police too, armed with firearm, airgun, blunt instrument, blade, any weapon that they had, and declared war on the gang. Many gang members were arrested and later sentenced to lengthy sentences, many more were simply killed, and their leader, an unnamed Englishman, was driven out, never to be seen again in the city, nor even the region of New England.