Milan — Two days later
The streets of Milan were no longer the same.
Flyers appeared in the squares, pasted on lampposts, left behind on church benches. Some were quickly torn down by the police. Others lasted hours — long enough to become legend.
"Corruption in Racing!"
"Justice for Alessio Bardi!"
"No More Silence!"
Vera read the improvised headlines, her eyes gleaming with pride. Luca, more cautious, knew: the louder the voice, the harsher the slap to silence it.
And the slap came.
By the second morning, as they crossed a narrow street in the Navigli district, the first siren wailed.
Then another.
Then many.
"They're sweeping the streets," Luca said.
It didn't take long to confirm.
At every corner, groups of policemen stopped passersby, ripping papers from their hands, arresting anyone who resisted. Dark-suited men — who weren't police — prowled the sidewalks, observing, taking notes.
The city was slipping into fear.
"They want to erase the story before it spreads," Vera said, her eyes burning with anger.
"Then we have to run faster than they do," Luca replied.
That night, they hid in an abandoned cellar near the central station.
In the dark, surrounded by faded posters and the stench of dust, Vera asked:
"Do you still believe we can win?"
Luca took a long moment before answering.
Finally, he said:
"The truth is already out on the streets. Now, not even they can swallow it back."
Above them, Milan smoldered in silence.
But in the alleys, in the quick glances of strangers, in the soaked papers drifting in gutters... a revolution whispered.
And it wouldn't stop.
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If you believe Luca and Vera can keep the flame alive, drop a Power Stone — every heartbeat strengthens their revolution.