Abuja – Sector 5 Skynet Bridge – 8:45 A.M.
The skyline shimmered beneath a dull, post-detonation haze. Morning traffic was diverted. Drones zipped above the megastructures, scanning for fugitives. Every broadcast screen in the city flashed with breaking news:
"Unconfirmed reports of explosion at federal pharmaceutical site in Gwagwalada. NDLEC refuses comment…"
Inside a rusted transit tram headed for the underbelly of Abuja, Tunde sat with a bloodied gauze around his ribs, half-conscious. The hard drive clutched in his palm was warm — not from the data, but from the cost.
He'd barely escaped the blast.
His body ached. His pulse was erratic. But his mind?
Focused.
He handed the drive to Arewa, who was seated beside him, face stone-cold.
"We have evidence now. Trial records. Chemical breakdowns. Patient IDs."
Arewa didn't blink. "And the link to Minister Kasim?"
Tunde nodded. "Stamped. Approved. Dated."
He looked out the window at the rising sun.
"We'll take this global."
....
Benin City – Safehouse Compound – 10:02 A.M.
Alero paced as Glyph loaded the drive into an air-gapped terminal.
"Encrypted twice," Glyph said. "One layer from SynGen, another from NDLEC internal servers. This is serious-grade cloak tech."
Ejiro leaned over her shoulder. "But you can break it, right?"
She smiled. "I'm already breaking it."
Alero turned to Tunde.
"What happens if we leak this?"
He stared at the data slowly unraveling on the screen: human trials in poor communities, failed test subjects dumped in mass graves, signed off by officials… including Minister Kasim Bako and three other political elites.
"We don't leak it."
They all turned to him.
"We broadcast it."
....
SynGen Tower – Lagos Island – 11:33 A.M.
Samira Bako stood before a wall of live feeds. Gwagwalada was a smoldering crater. Several foreign investors were pulling out. Global watchdogs were asking questions.
A soft chime echoed. A secure call.
She answered.
Kasim Bako's face appeared, holographic and furious.
"You said you had control."
Samira's tone was calm, detached. "I did. Until he showed up."
"You should've killed him when you had the chance."
She stepped closer to the screen. "You think killing your past makes the truth vanish?"
Bako's face twisted. "If that boy goes public, the entire network collapses. I go down, you go down, and half the council will burn."
"I know."
"Then fix it!"
She closed the call.
Looked toward her assistant.
"Activate Echo Protocol."
The assistant hesitated. "Ma… that means—"
Samira cut in, voice cold.
"It means we start erasing everything. Labs. Staff. Paper trails. Witnesses. If we can't silence the story, we make it unbelievable."
....
Abuja – Abandoned NewsNet Server Room – 2:17 P.M.
Tunde stood before a cracked terminal with a journalist—Chuka Nwoke, exiled media icon turned data-pirate.
He pressed his hand against the dusty glass.
"Can you air it?"
Chuka smiled. "This terminal may be dead to the public grid, but I've got an uplink to FreeNet Africa, pirate waves in Kenya, India, Jamaica, and even Berlin. Once it goes out, you can't take it back."
Arewa stepped beside him. "That's the point."
Chuka loaded the data. Screens flickered with footage of test chambers, names, scanned letters bearing Ministerial stamps. The truth was ugly — but real.
He turned to Tunde.
"You sure, boy? You might not survive this."
Tunde stared at the screen.
"I already didn't."
Chuka hit UPLOAD.
....
Everywhere – 2:31 P.M.
Across Nigeria — in barber shops, taxi queues, internet cafés, student lounges, and slum alleyways — phones buzzed.
Screens came alive.
"EXCLUSIVE: MINISTER BAKO'S DARK NETWORK — HUMAN TESTING, FOREIGN FUNDING, NDLEC CORRUPTION."
Clips rolled. Images leaked. Testimonies from the shadows.
The country inhaled — and didn't know whether to scream or burn.
....
Minutes Later – NDLEC Headquarters – Executive Hall
General Okon threw the comms tablet against the wall.
"This is a goddamn coup!"
An aide rushed in. "Sir, international calls are pouring in. WHO, AU Council, and... the UN."
"What do they want?"
"Your resignation… or extradition."
General Okon paled.
Because he knew —
They'd been exposed.
....
Warri – Rooftop Safehouse – Sunset
Tunde stood watching the last light fade behind rusted oil towers. His ribs ached. His soul, heavier still.
Arewa walked over, holding two glasses.
"You think we won?"
Tunde sipped.
"No. We just told the truth."
He smiled.
"That's how revolutions start."