Rumors began to spread through
the
city: MINGO had become too influential.
Too quiet. Too smart. And that meant
—
too dangerous.
At night, his crew tried to overthrow
him by luring him to the port. MINGO came alone, and his mere appearance was enough to make
the plan fall apart: even the boldest understood they were facing someone who had risen from
nothing and long surpassed everyone around him.
After that night, there were no more coup
attempts. The city accepted his rule as something inevitable.
Thus MINGO finally became
the one who holds the streets — not by disappearing, but by securing his place at the very
top, the one he climbed to on his own.
Once, MINGO was just a regular street
kid: hanging around the docks with the guys, twisting his feathers, listening to muffled
beats from an old tape player.
He wasn’t aiming for greatness — all he cared about was
finding a couple of joints and chilling until sunset. But the streets are a tricky thing.
They either break you, or they
forge you.