Yyyyyyyyyyyeeeeeeeeessssssssssssss...My plans for threadjacking are nearing completion.
The streets of Galtopia are bathed in searchlights as the Galtstapo hunts for miscreants to bludgeon on national television. Suddenly, a beam of light catches upon a coat whirling down below. The pilot diverts his attention to the object, preparing to swoop down into the alley to investigate, only to be distracted by one of the few vagrants left in the nation. Within minutes, the toothless bum is tossed into the back of a helicopter and flown to the State Beatings Facility.
Meanwhile, under the cover of the thin alley paving, a group meets in a brightly lit cellar. All of them dressed in weird uniforms, none meeting the National Cosplay Standards (a crime punishable by being publicly critiqued by an appointed board, mind you). The man in the orange and purple jumpsuit took to the center of the floor, his crowbar hanging in a small sling at his side.
"My fellow freedom-fighters! If we are to stage our uprising, then we must do it now. Surely the Galtstapo will be too preoccupied getting hammered and beating up bums so we actually have a chance to move now! Go my comrades! Let's go smash and burn things in the name of freedom!"
And with that, the group dispersed, each going off into the city to spread their own unique brand of discontent and civil disobedience.