Location: Korex Media HQ, Victoria Island, Lagos
Glass walls. Mood lighting.
Corporate revolution.
Dele sat in a dark briefing room surrounded by men in well-cut suits — not soldiers, not politicians… but something worse: curators of chaos.
Korex stood by the projector, pointing at a city map glowing red.
"VDM is active in six zones. The leaks are spreading. We believe he's feeding off former operatives in Bauchi, Zaria, and possibly Port Harcourt."
He turned to Dele.
"We need you to discredit him. On camera. This week."
🎭 Playing the Part
Dele nodded, carefully.
"Of course. I'll draft a script."
Korex raised an eyebrow.
"No script. Speak from the heart. That's what made you believable."
That word again. Believable.
Not true. Not right.
Just… believable.
💻 GhostMode Reaches Out
That night, in his apartment, Dele opened an encrypted laptop hidden behind his ceiling panel.
The screen blinked.
A voice-altered call connected.
GhostMode: "You're inside. Good. We need Korex's internal memos. Timelines. Proof they manufactured the Halima campaign."
Dele: "You want to expose him? You'll need more than files."
GhostMode: "We want a confession."
Silence.
"You want me to make Korex talk? On record?"
"Not him," GhostMode replied. "Someone close. Someone shakier. Maybe… Babajide."
🧨 The Risk Multiplies
Dele spent the next few days playing both sides:
Attending Korex's PR meetings, helping script smear campaigns
Secretly recording backroom conversations with senior operatives
Feeding GhostMode strategic false info to draw Korex's men into traps
Each move bought the resistance more time.
But Korex began watching more closely.
One day, after a staged campaign shoot, he placed a hand on Dele's shoulder.
"You're either the most loyal man I've ever met…"
His grip tightened.
"…or the most dangerous."
🧃 The Interrogation Setup
Korex's team prepped Babajide for an on-camera "leak clarification."
Dele volunteered to conduct the interview.
Behind the scenes, he planted a hidden transmitter in the lav mic.
Jamilah would pick up the feed from over 30 kilometers away.
"Ask the right questions," GhostMode texted.
"Make him crack."
🎙 The Interview Begins
Cameras rolled.
Dele asked routine questions. Then edged in closer.
"Babajide, did you believe Halima was guilty?"
"We had intel…"
"Even before the confession?"
"That's not the point."
"Then what is the point? That people believe what you want them to believe?"
Babajide faltered.
"We did what was necessary. The country needed peace. Order."
"And who defines order? You? Or Korex?"
His eyes flicked off-camera.
"This isn't what we rehearsed—"
"No. This is real."
The room froze.
⚡ Cut Transmission
Back in the safehouse, Jamilah whispered:
"We've got it. Every word."
GhostMode:
"Upload it anonymously. Time it with the next VDM drop. That'll tear the regime's 'clean' face apart."
👁 The Final Shot
That night, Dele returned home to find an envelope on his table. No name.
Inside:
A photo of Halima boarding a bus in Bauchi.
A phone number.
And a note: "One wrong step, and she disappears again."
He sat down slowly, heart pounding.
The game was still on.
Location: Resistance Safehouse, Bauchi
Rain slicked the windowpanes.
Generators hummed softly in the dark.
Inside, a dozen eyes turned when the door opened — and Halima stepped in.
Jamilah stood first, hand on her sidearm. Tayo flinched. Even Bimbo, the analyst, went still.
"She shouldn't be here," someone muttered.
"She's a liability," said another.
Halima didn't speak. She simply held up the flash drive — and placed it on the table.
🧠 Proof or Performance?
Jamilah ran the contents through secure decryption. It matched the files from GhostMode.
Proof of Korex's deepfake operation.
Proof of government-sponsored erasure.
"It's real," Jamilah confirmed.
Still… the silence remained.
Tayo stepped forward.
"The last time we trusted someone, they nearly cost us the entire network."
"I didn't ask to be trusted," Halima replied. "I asked to be useful."
🔥 Scars Under the Skin
Later, Halima sat with Tayo in the courtyard. Just the two of them.
He lit a cigarette — not because he smoked, but because it gave his hands something to do.
"I read the reports," he said. "They broke you bad."
"They broke my sister worse," Halima replied.
"Where is she now?"
"Gone. As in — no record, no trail, nothing. They called her 'collateral motivation.'"
Tayo winced.
"You think this movement can save her?"
"No. But I think burning Korex's empire to the ground might give her peace."
🕊️ A Test of Fire
Later that night, Jamilah handed Halima a burner phone.
"You want in? You earn it."
She pointed to a pin on the map: a radio station still broadcasting Korex-approved news.
"We hijack their midnight show. Play the real confession audio. Live."
"And if it's a trap?"
"Then we go out screaming truth."
Halima didn't hesitate.
"When do we leave?"
💔 The Rift
But not everyone agreed.
Hassan, the logistics head, pulled Jamilah aside.
"You're risking everything for a symbol. She might still be turned."
"You've seen the footage."
"I've seen good people lie for less."
He looked around.
"VDM's still out there. What if he doesn't want her back in?"
Jamilah replied coldly:
"VDM isn't here. We are."
🌕 Final Shot
As the group moved out, Halima looked back once — at the safehouse, at the people still unsure of her.
"They don't trust me," she told Tayo.
"Maybe not. But if you do this right… they'll fear losing you."
She nodded.
"Good. I'm done being forgotten."
The building sat like a rotting tooth in the middle of tall grass.
Rust on the gates. Dead silence inside. Too silent.
Halima stepped out of the van, boots crunching glass.
Jamilah checked the frequency scanner.
"Signal's clean. We're fifteen minutes from the midnight news segment."
"Something feels off," Tayo muttered.
But they pushed on.
🎚️ The Broadcast Room
The studio was unlocked.
Dust on the mic.
Old coffee still warm on the desk.
Halima froze.
"They were just here."
Bimbo booted the control panel.
Jamilah connected her audio deck.
"We go live at 00:00. We only get one take."
Halima took a breath, hand hovering over the mic.
"You sure you're ready?" Tayo asked.
"No," she said. "But I'm done being silent."
⏱️ T-Minus Five Minutes
Outside, Hassan waited in the van.
On the comms:
"Still clear. No movement—wait."
He zoomed in on the side mirror.
Two motorcycles. No lights. Fast.
Then a third. Then a fourth.
"We're not alone anymore."
🎙 The Broadcast Begins
Inside, the "ON AIR" light blinked red.
Halima leaned into the mic, voice low and clear.
"If you're hearing this, it means the truth still matters. My name is Halima. And I was forced to confess to crimes I never committed…"
She played the interrogation tape.
The audio crackled — beatings, threats, her broken voice.
"…They tortured me to make you stop asking questions. Don't stop."
🔥 The Ambush
Outside, gunfire ripped through the van. Hassan shouted before the comms cut.
Inside, lights flickered.
Tayo slammed the emergency door.
"We're surrounded. We finish this or we die."
"We finish," Halima said.
Jamilah rerouted power. Bimbo jammed the trackers. The team held the building like a bunker.
"We've got 45 seconds left of air," Jamilah said. "Say what you need to say."
Halima leaned in again.
"To the people out there — if I don't make it out, let this recording be proof. We are not your enemies. We are the proof they buried."
She looked at the others.
"We are what they fear."
🚨 Escape Through Fire
Just as the tape ended, Korex's strike team kicked down the front doors.
But the building had two exits.
Tayo led them through the archive tunnel beneath the broadcast room — a narrow maintenance path wired for emergency power.
"Go now," he barked. "I'll cover the door."
"No," Halima said. "We leave together."
Gunfire echoed above. Flames began crawling the hallway walls.
In the chaos, they barely made it to the backup vehicle — a stolen ambulance stashed behind an abandoned clinic.
📡 The Fallout
By sunrise, the audio had spread.
WhatsApp groups lit up with the confession.
#HalimaLives trended on X and Instagram.
TikTokers remixed her words with images of soldiers, burning homes, and protests.
Even news stations not owned by Korex whispered the question:
"Is this… real?"
And for the first time in weeks — the government had no pre-written script.