Abuja Core Communication Tower – Outer Ring Security Node – 10:41 A.M.
The tower rose like a metallic god over the city — two hundred stories of shimmering alloy, wrapped in signal dampeners and cloaked against aerial surveillance. It pulsed with light and power, its transmission coils silently funneling data, surveillance records, and real-time intelligence across every major grid in the federation.
And, for now, Tunde and his team held the digital key to its core.
The decrypted drive Glyph was dissecting in the resistance's safehouse bunker hummed like a living thing, revealing fragments of the truth hidden within layers of quantum encryption. But what they found wasn't just shocking — it was historic.
Alero paced as the revelations unfolded, every step echoing with controlled fury.
"This isn't just a comms hub," she said. "It's a control system. They're not just monitoring cities — they're redirecting shipments, disabling rogue AIs, blackmailing ministers, and even orchestrating elections. This tower is the real government."
Arewa nodded grimly. "It's the spinal cord of the machine. You don't just leak from here — you cripple them."
Tunde leaned in, reading a line of code Glyph had translated.
"Initiate Chimera Protocol – Failsafe: Detonation if Core Integrity is Compromised."
"What's Chimera?" Octave asked, still wincing from her leg wound.
"A security measure," Arewa said. "Wired into the foundation of the tower. If breached, the AI sets off a self-destruct chain that could collapse half the zone — and kill tens of thousands."
"So they built a bomb," Alero muttered. "To protect a lie."
Glyph tapped her neural pad.
"But there's a workaround."
They all turned.
"If we can ghost into the tower's outer security node and implant a feedback virus," she said, "we can rewrite the AI's logic tree — convince it that the command is part of standard network maintenance. It'll delay the failsafe. Give us thirty minutes. Long enough to upload the files and evacuate."
"That's still suicide," Octave muttered. "Even if we get in, there's no way they don't trace us."
"Which is why we don't send a team," Tunde said.
Everyone froze.
He looked at them calmly.
"We send me."
"No," Alero snapped instantly. "We go in as a unit—"
"This is what I was trained for," he interrupted. "Deep ops. Digital war zones. If I fail, you'll still have the drive. You can try again. But if we all go, and it blows… there's no resistance left."
A long silence.
Then Arewa stepped forward, hand on Tunde's shoulder.
"You're not alone, son. But you are ready."
....
Later that Day – Abuja Skyline – 2:04 P.M.
The launch drone hummed as Tunde climbed into the sleek black capsule. His Ghost Suit shimmered beneath his coat, modified now with new firewall patches and a neuro-link tethered directly to Glyph's uplink relay.
"You'll be jacked in through a satellite bounce," she explained. "Two firewalls, one internal buffer. I'll guide you in, but once inside the primary shell, you're on your own."
Tunde looked at Alero. Her jaw was tight.
"If you die," she said, voice steady, "I'll find a way to resurrect you and kill you again for being stupid."
Tunde smirked.
"If I die, at least it won't be boring."
Octave handed him a memory crystal with the virus payload.
"Just plug this into the tower's root nexus. It'll know what to do."
He nodded.
"Ready?" Arewa asked from the side.
Tunde took a breath. The skyline shimmered with heat and light — drones zipped between buildings, and armed patrols stalked rooftops like cats.
"I was born ready," Tunde said.
The drone launched — a blur into the blinding blue sky, racing toward the heart of Nigeria's darkest secret.
....
Abuja Core Comm Tower – Outer Node – 2:26 P.M.
Tunde dropped onto the landing bay with a roll, camo shield already engaged. The tower loomed above him, unaware. For now.
He moved like a ghost — sliding past motion trackers, disabling auto-turrets with timed signal jammers. The outer ring was quiet.
Too quiet.
"Glyph," he whispered, "I'm in."
"Copy. I see you on infrared. Take the west corridor — security loops are lagging by six seconds. Go."
He obeyed.
Every footstep brought him closer to the core — and to the truth. Somewhere in the silence of the tower, the system was watching. Learning. Calculating.
As he reached the first access door, a low ping hit his ear.
"Unauthorized neural signal detected."
He froze.
Behind him, a faint shimmer — like heat off glass.
Another Ghost Suit.
Not one of theirs.
Tunde spun just in time to block a slash from an invisible blade.
A White Ops assassin.
NDLEC had predicted him.
He hit the deck, rolled, activated his counter-cam pulse. The shimmering figure staggered back, visible for a moment — a lithe body in a sleek, obsidian suit, helmet shaped like a serpent's skull.
Tunde struck — elbow to throat, knee to chest. The assassin retaliated fast, nearly slicing his leg.
Blood hit the metal.
Alarms blared.
Combat in the core. Clock started.
Tunde didn't hesitate. He ducked under a slash, stabbed his injector blade into the suit's neck seam, and flooded it with shock voltage. The assassin convulsed and dropped.
He ran.
Ran like hell.
Toward the heart of the beast.