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A bump, a shout, and the frantic patter of tennis shoes whisking down the busy sidewalk, all sounds which were staples of criminal life anywhere in South America. With that the morning began much like any other, early, and with the promise of another sweltering day ahead. Andrés began to dress and prepare for work as he heard his wife already dealing with the antics of their five children in the next room. Walking past his wife he stopped long enough to give her a peck on the cheek and ruffle the hair of his eldest son, Manuel. Today would be another morning without breakfast but perhaps tomorrow they would be more fortunate. Walking through the cloth dividing his dwelling from the other rooms of the tenement Andrés hoped his sons would be able to provide better for their families.

It was only a five mile walk for Andrés from the urban sprawl where he lived in downtown Bogotá to the acres of coffee farms which frequently hired him. As he neared the best paying coffee plantation in town his heart sank. Despite the fact it wasn’t even six a.m. and the temperature had already entered the lower nineties there was a mob of well over one hundred day-laborers already waiting against the chain-linked fence of the compound to be chosen for the day’s work. As he neared the fence the workers‘cries began to turn to a chant of anger and frustration.

By the time a few of the disenfranchised laborers began to climb the fence a police force within the compound appeared from an administrative building with riot shields and batons. As they neared the fence, the laborers began to scramble for sticks and stones, which they happily began throwing over the fence at the security force. Andrés knew better than to become caught up in this fiasco. He had seen enough of these attacks by laborers seeking employment to know it ensured he would be jailed and that was the best way to ensure his family would starve.

As Andrés began to walk towards the remaining coffee plantations the sound of compressed air was heard and he turned his attention once again to the fence. To counter the unrelenting barrage of stones raining upon them the security team had brought CO2 powered bean-bag guns to bear on the protesters. The entire front row of laborers fell beneath assault and quickly Andrés realized he would be unable to escape this predicament. The inhabitants of the surrounding countryside had approached to investigate what all the commotion were about and was now rallied up after seeing their countrymen bleeding in the dirt.

Likewise, the workers within the compound had stopped their working to look on. Reluctant to fight for fear of losing their privilege of holding a job for that day they nevertheless felt a pang of remorse. The remaining security forces within the plantation, whose primary job was to simply monitor the activities of the workers, were quickly dispatched to aid their embattled comrades. As Andrés stood still, taking in the action swirling around him, he was knocked to the ground by the stampede of laborers joining the fray. Fearing he would be trampled to death he began to scramble for any way up when a large hand grabbed him by the back of his neck and hauled him to his feet.

“Careful friend, you’re on our side. Best if we don’t lose any of our kind. Now come, help us. It’ll help you just as much as any of us.”

“No thanks, I really don’t want to get into any trouble. I just want to help my family.” The larger man began to chuckle after hearing this from Andrés and pulled him to the side as the crowd began to make an opening towards the fence.

“I think it may be a bit difficult to help anyone if you don’t begin by getting into a little trouble first. Besides, when we’re done with this no one is going to be upset with you for what you’ve done. You’ll be a hero, a liberator fighting for the common good and the common man. Just relax; all you need to do now is watch the festivities.”

With that he stepped aside and gestured back towards the line of shacks in the distance which the mob had cleared a path towards. As the dust which had been kicked up began to settle, Andrés could hear the sound of a diesel engine and soon an outline of a bus came into view.

A few of the laborers at the fence began to cheer upon seeing this heavily modified bus. Andrés realized all those cheering were dressed in similar clothing with a sash around their waist. Glancing at the man who had saved him, Andrés realized he too was wearing the same sash with repeating red and black diagonal stripes across its length. The man stood over two meters tall and Andrés thought it seemed he could have easily tossed him aside. The bus began to rumble forward as the cheering from the crowd continued. As the bus neared, it was evident it was of a unique construction. The chassis was that of a typical run-down bus from any street in South America, but the front end had numerous scraps of metal haphazardly welded together to attach a bulldozer plow to it. The windows were covered in sheets of tin roofing and the sides had all manner of graffiti covering them, although the words The Trojan Horse stood out the most clearly in fresh black paint.

As the security forces behind the fence began to realize the danger presented to them, their attention was turned from the mob to the odd contraption before them. A few began to flee back into the compound as the bus began to pick up speed, but others reached for flare guns and began firing them into the few openings that presented themselves. The distance quickly shortened and it appeared the bus would ram through the fence and plow on into the security forces. The entire struggle along the remainder of the fence had ceased as everyone looked on in awe to see the outcome.

Just before The Trojan Horse reached the space vacated for it by the mob a flare made its way into the interior of the bus through a small slit. It appeared the flare would have no effect and was too little too late but as the bus roared over the curb it began to turn sharply and tilt. The bus teetered on two wheels until gravity finally won out over its immense weight and the bus slide through the fence on its side, crashing through laborers and security members alike.

Before the bus had even come to a stop the mob began to pour through the opening in the fence. The security forces unaffected by the bus formed into ranks on either side of it and fired their non-lethal weaponry into the mass of workers, but the survivors of the crash were still struggling to their feet as they were overtaken by the laborers.

“Come on, you were looking for a job at the coffee plantation weren’t you?”

Since Andrés was nearly being dragged by the larger man he was barely able to reply over the fighting. “Yea, but I never planned on having to die for it. Besides, who was in that bus?’

Andrés‘question was greeted by another chuckle from the larger man as he grinned and continued to drag him towards the compound. ”Stick around and I think you just may enjoy what you find here. I promise it’s not the same as the old way, or any way for that matter. “

Another tug on his arm and another chuckle and Andrés began to wonder if it wouldn’t have been better if he had simply slept in this morning. A day had passed since the”uprising“as everyone had begun calling it. Already a new air of change had taken to the streets of northern Bogotá. Although the majority of the city remained under government control a significant portion of the northern boroughs were controlled by the uprising. Fights had broken out across the city throughout the night and stepping onto the street there was no doubting the huge change which had overcome this area.

Andrés began walking down the street towards one of the few bars which accepted clientele of the working class. The streets were bustling with people cheering and running to celebrate. From every window facing the streets cloths freshly dabbed in paint hung for all to see, each being half red, half black, with a horizontal slash dividing them. The soldiers of the movement had taken to the street with the cheerful workers of the boroughs, all too eager to display their loyalty to the uprising.

”Andrés, you know they say soon the entire city will be won from the capitalists. It is only a matter of time until we are all free my friend.“ Andrés barely registered the comment by the bartender. He sat with his back to the bar and looked around at the dozens of celebrating people here as he began to relax and get into the festive atmosphere. As he turned around to ask the bartender for another drink the bottles of liqueur behind the counter rattled, the sound of a few of the bottles shattering upon the ground brought Andrés to his feet.