It’s too late. This is just a small monster finally grown scared of the big monster he helped create. He’ll be shot in the street by the very people his ideologically driven program made, and he will die with a Pikachu face like the rest forced to face the abomination they’ve unleashed.

One thing has always been true of fascist states every time they’ve manifested. They eat their own. In their final form, they are without center. And when the society under its thrall finally comes-to, as if from a fever dream, they’re surrounded by the remains of all that was lost. And then, finally, they lament.