Abuja, 2079 – Ministry of Internal Security, Zone 4 – 12:08 A.M.
In the heart of Abuja's fortified government sector, the Ministry of Internal Security pulsed like a nerve center. Every floor of the titanium spire ran on isolated power grids, with quantum encryption sealing its servers. But tonight, something was different.
Minister Kasim Bako stood before a panoramic screen showing chaos blooming across the country.
Slums rioted. Terminals glitched. Holo-billboards screamed with flickering images: tortured test subjects, shipping logs marked with his signature, NDLEC files stamped "Confidential." The leak had hit everywhere.
His comms pinged nonstop. Calls from the President's office. From the Senate House. From foreign consulates.
He ignored them all.
Instead, he pressed his palm onto the hidden biometric panel beneath his desk. A green line slid up a wall across the room, revealing a cold, steel briefcase. Inside: a small, blinking console.
OPERATION FLOODGATE – STATUS: DORMANT.
A fail-safe.
A last resort.
Kasim spoke softly. "Activate contingency protocol. Authorization code: Kareem Echo-Seven-Victor-Delta."
Contingency confirmed. Releasing Sleeper Nodes in Zones 2, 6, 9, and 12. Initiating controlled citywide blackout grid in Lagos Core. Disruption wave commencing in 30 minutes.
Kasim turned to his assistant, a man in a charcoal suit with neural tattoos creeping up his neck.
"Send the White Ops to Lagos. Start with the Makoko Grid. I want them dead by sunrise."
The assistant nodded once and vanished.
.....
Lagos, 2079 – Octave's Shanty Lab – 12:32 A.M.
Tunde watched the chaos unfold across the hacked screens. Makoko was lighting up — not with celebration, but with violence. Armed units in white armor dropped from unmarked skimmers, weapons glowing with red tracers.
Octave looked up from her control deck.
"They're deploying Floodgate. I knew he'd built it, but I didn't think he'd have the guts to use it."
"What's it do?" Alero asked, already strapping on gear.
Octave's eyes flickered with neural code. "It activates dormant drones, scrambles civil defense systems, shuts down private networks. Basically, it turns Lagos into a blind, burning warzone. No comms. No witnesses."
Tunde's jaw clenched. "He's wiping the board."
"He's going scorched earth," Octave confirmed. "And guess what? We're the target."
Just then, the walls shook — a concussive thump rippled through the water-logged foundation. The screen blinked red.
"They're already here," Alero said grimly.
"Back exit," Tunde snapped. "Octave, upload the raw data to four international servers. Dead-drop it to every cyber militia cell from Onitsha to Nairobi. Then blow this place."
"Already done," she said, grabbing a backup core and slinging it into her coat. "But I'm not dying for your revolution."
"Neither are we," Alero muttered.
They burst through the trapdoor behind the lab just as plasma bolts hissed through the ceiling, igniting the main server core. Flames surged upward.
Below, old sewage tunnels twisted toward the mainland. Tunde led the way, Alero covering the rear, Octave dragging a hacked field terminal behind her like a sacred relic.
"We need to get to the mainland and disappear," Alero said. "At least until we find a way to hit back."
"No," Tunde replied. "We don't run anymore. We rally. There's still one man I trust. If we reach him, we can regroup. Maybe even fight back."
Octave raised an eyebrow. "Who?"
Tunde looked over his shoulder, voice steady. "My handler. Major Arewa. He disappeared two years ago — but if I'm right, he's hiding in Benin City. And he has the keys to everything."
Alero nodded. "Then we head south."
As they ran deeper into the dark, the world above cracked apart — systems failing, towers burning, gunships sweeping across the skyline like vultures.
Lagos was on fire.
And so was the truth.