Milan — Gray morning
The news raced through the streets like wildfire.
Makeshift flyers appeared on poles, walls, and windows.
The copies of the dossier, now in the hands of the public patrol, began to leak — each sheet hastily photocopied, passed from hand to hand like an urgent scream.
"Corruption in Motorsport!"
"Names Revealed!"
"Justice for the Dead!"
Milan, once accustomed to the weight of fear, now trembled differently.
Factories shut their doors.
Trams stalled on the tracks.
Men in stained work coats and women with headscarves marched through the streets, fists raised.
Alleys, plazas, avenues — all were taken over by voices refusing to be silenced.
The newspapers, initially hesitant, began to break. Some, still under the thumb of the powerful, tried to minimize. Others — the braver ones — printed bold headlines:
"The Truth Emerges."
But the system fought back.
The secret police, mercenaries hired by the corrupt, attacked the protests, trying to arrest newly born leaders.
Flags were torn.
People were beaten.
Blood began to stain the sidewalks.
Hidden inside an abandoned building near the city center, Vera watched everything from a broken window.
Her heart was a mix of hope and pain.
She knew:
there would be no victory without cost.
But as she listened to the roaring voices from the square — voices of freedom, revolt, and courage — Vera understood.
The seed they had planted was blooming, even amidst the flames.