The night before everything would change felt like an eternity. The city slept, unaware of the chaos that was about to consume it. I couldn't sleep, though. I paced around my apartment, replaying the plan over and over in my mind. Every step had been calculated. Every move, every word, every piece of this operation had been set into place months ago, but it didn't make it any less terrifying.
Solomon's words echoed in my mind: One choice. One move that changes everything.
Tomorrow, we would strike. And everything I'd worked for—everything we'd worked for—would either come to fruition or fall apart completely. There would be no middle ground.
I went over the details again. The government was fragile—too fragile. Their leaders, isolated and panicked, had already lost control of the narrative. Solomon had made sure of that. Media outlets were being controlled, misinformation was flooding the airwaves, and the streets were seething with anger. The curfew they'd imposed had only made the situation worse, pushing more people into the streets, creating a sense of lawlessness that we could harness.
I had my role to play. And it was simple: get to the heart of the chaos, take control of the narrative, and become the face of the revolution.
It was always going to be about perception. People needed someone to believe in, someone who could offer them a solution to the mess they found themselves in. I wasn't just going to seize power. I was going to make them want me to do it. Make them crave it. And Solomon—Solomon was the perfect ally to help pull the strings.
I knew I wasn't just dealing with politics or power structures. I was dealing with people's deepest fears and desires. Fear was a currency. If we could control that, we could control everything. Fear was why people followed leaders. Fear was why people voted. Fear was why people allowed themselves to be ruled. And tomorrow, we would become the masters of fear.
The clock ticked on. It was almost time.
I glanced at my phone. There was a message from Solomon: Everything is set. The game begins tomorrow at dawn.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was to come.
As I stood up to leave, a sudden, unexpected feeling washed over me—an unease that I couldn't shake. Was this the right thing to do? Was I ready to take that final step into the abyss? To plunge the world into something so irreversible, it would forever change the course of history?
I pushed the doubt away. There was no room for hesitation now. There was only the revolution. Only the mission.
When I arrived at the safe house the next morning, the air was thick with anticipation. Solomon was already there, standing by the table, where the map of the city lay open. His face was unreadable, but I could see the quiet intensity in his eyes.
"This is it," Solomon said, as if reading my thoughts. "The world is ours for the taking."
He handed me a small folder. Inside were the final instructions—the exact locations where our people would move in, the targets to eliminate, and the media contacts to push the narrative. The plan was in motion. All I had to do now was execute it.
"We move in thirty minutes," Solomon said. "Get your team ready."
I nodded. There was no turning back now. The revolution was no longer a distant idea—it was a living, breathing force, and it was time for it to take root.
As I made my way to the streets, I felt the weight of the moment pressing down on me. The city was waking up, and with it, the perfect storm was forming. The unrest would become a flood, and we would be the ones to direct it.
The streets were eerily quiet when I first stepped outside, the calm before the storm. But I could feel it—something was building, gathering energy, like the air before a lightning strike. The people were already on edge. And it would only take one spark to ignite everything.
I moved quickly, blending into the crowd, my mind racing through the steps. It was time to unleash the chaos.
As I approached the first target—a police station on the edge of the city—I could see that the officers inside were already on high alert. The protests had reached their doorstep. This was where the power would shift. We had been working for months to make this moment possible, and now that it was here, it felt surreal. The building was surrounded by angry protesters, some throwing stones, others shouting slogans. But it was all part of the plan.
I took a deep breath and walked past the barricades, heading straight into the heart of the chaos.
The game had begun.
Within minutes, the first bomb went off. Not an explosive—just a flashbang designed to cause panic. And that was all it took. The people, already on edge, scattered in all directions. The news outlets exploded with coverage, and the chaos only deepened.
I moved swiftly, blending into the frenzy, knowing that the next phase was already in motion. Solomon's people had infiltrated the city's communication networks, broadcasting the message we needed to hear.
This is the beginning of the end for the old world. The revolution is here.
And just like that, the city was no longer just a battleground—it was ours.
________
Jabrane
pa treon /Jabrane
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