The Dictator

Here is a continuation portraying Kazuo as a tyrannical dictator over the world:

From his impenetrable citadel fortress, Kazuo issues edicts shaping the lives of billions. None dare protest the dizzying decrees and policies shifting like desert winds. Entire industries can be conjured into existence or abolished with a snap of his fingers.

The planet holds its breath each morning awaiting pronouncements falling like guillotine blades from Kazuo's throne of domination.

Will their skin color be deemed illegal today?

Their ancestry grounds for execution?

Their nation erased between hunger pangs and heartbeats by one mercurial manchild's whimsy?

State media beams Kazuo's visage daily into humble huts and glittering towers alike – a messianic countenance glaring as angel and demon in one. Loud speakers trumpet the glorious culture and prosperity he has bestowed upon his people. Yet all live in perpetual terror of violent purges should Kazuo suspect the merest seed of dissent rooting.

His planetary secret police disappear suspected thought criminals by the thousands. Their anguished screams echo from interrogation chambers hidden beneath sprawling presidential palaces. All designed so none may oppose the despot who clawed beyond stained streets into seat of ultimate mastery over mankind's fate.

Abroad, Kazuo's ambassadorial armies intimidate like mafia envoys totalitarian demands for fealty and one-sided trade. In his own domain, Kazuo occasionally tours showcase cities where emaciated subjects perform well-rehearsed cheers as the dictator's motorcade glides past their hollow eyes.

At night, while his conquered billions shuffle restlessly behind locked doors, Kazuo basks alone in silk sheets. Fantasizing fresh spectacles demonstrating his dominion come dawn. For what are subjects beyond playthings for a boy king who spent his life forcing knees down by blade and bullet? Now no neck remains unbowed before his grandeur. None shall ever stand equal again.