Unity Gala – Presidential Sector, Abuja – 8:21 P.M.
Tunde moved through the golden atrium of the Unity Pavilion with a camera crew disguise and a borrowed NDTV press badge. Every breath felt heavy under the synthetic glamour of the room — crystal-light ceilings, robotic butlers, walls that shimmered like living marble. The world's elite mingled in curated ignorance.
Minister Kasim Bako stood at the center of it all, shaking hands, flashing smiles, his agbada starched to perfection, eyes alert behind charm.
Tunde's gaze didn't leave him.
The man who raised him.
The man who betrayed him.
....
Team Echo – Surveillance Wing – 8:24 P.M.
Glyph's voice crackled over the comms: "Visual feeds rerouted. We're ghosts now. You've got ten minutes before they reboot the grid."
Ejiro, dressed as an event engineer, clipped a last micro-jammer beneath the gala stage. "We're in position."
"Copy," Alero responded from the balcony above the hall. "Ready to move on Pulse signal."
Tunde kept walking.
....
Stage Center – President's Toast – 8:28 P.M.
President Nwachukwu raised a glass. His voice echoed through the glass-and-gold architecture:
"Tonight we celebrate unity, innovation, and our bright future…"
Tunde timed his steps to the rhythm of applause, closing in on the central broadcasting terminal just behind the orchestra.
Ten seconds.
Glyph's signal pulsed through his earpiece: "Go."
....
Pulse Room – Offsite Relay Van – 8:29 P.M.
Arewa sat at the console, flanked by two rebel techs. He hit the send button on the final ThroneFiles package: classified video footage of Kasim Bako greenlighting Operation Husk, lists of augmented children, details of mind-altering drugs tested on remote communities.
"Uploading live to global network."
....
Gala Hall – Chaos Unleashed – 8:30 P.M.
The main screen behind the President flickered.
Suddenly — instead of Unity Day fireworks — the room erupted in silence.
A grainy video played: a young, frightened boy strapped to a gurney. Injected. Screaming. Voices overhead arguing.
Then a name flashed across the screen.
Subject 117B — Tunde Bako.
Gasps.
Whispers.
Camera drones swerved. Security bots froze. Faces paled.
Minister Bako staggered a step, glass slipping from his hand.
Tunde stepped forward, microphone live.
"I was one of them," he said, voice amplified to every corner of the room — and every screen across the country. "One of the many children used, discarded, then hunted when we wouldn't stay buried."
He locked eyes with Bako.
"You built your empire on forgotten bones. And tonight, we remember."
Security rushed the stage — but half stopped mid-step, paralyzed by the data now flooding their earpieces. Some recognized faces in the files. Others had family in the affected regions.
The command chain frayed.
....
Samira Bako smashed her earpiece.
"Trace the source! Kill the feed now!"
A SynGen agent nearby paled. "Ma… it's being rebroadcast by independent networks. Decentralized echo servers. It's… it's unstoppable."
Samira's face froze.
Then she turned slowly.
"Find Tunde. Kill him. Now."
....
Bako looked directly at Tunde.
A hundred cameras locked on both men.
"Son…" Bako began.
Tunde raised his mic, voice hard.
"You lost the right to call me that the moment you auctioned my life."
Bako's expression shattered.
Tunde stepped down from the stage. Alero and Ejiro appeared at his flanks.
Chaos erupted.
But this wasn't a coup.
It was an awakening.
....
Outside – Sky Above Abuja – 8:38 P.M.
Dozens of drone swarms filled the air — not weaponized, but visual. Projections of names. Faces. Towns. Lost children. Forgotten tests.
The sky told a story the ground could no longer ignore.
Private Lounge – Minutes Later
Bako stumbled into a secured lounge, chest heaving. Samira waited for him, calm and unreadable.
"They'll come for you now," she said.
Bako swallowed hard. "You too."
She smiled coldly. "I never needed a throne to rule."
"Where will you go?"
She picked up a black briefcase. "Where shadows are currency. Where the war hasn't even started."
He reached for her wrist. "Help me."
She pulled away.
"You bred monsters, Minister. And one of them just put you to sleep."
She vanished into a hidden elevator shaft.
.....
Gala Aftermath – Streets of Abuja – 10:12 P.M.
The broadcast had finished.
But the fire had only begun.
Protests erupted.
NDLEC officers began defecting.
The President retreated into silence.
And across the country, the name Tunde Bako spread like digital wildfire — not as a criminal, but as a symbol.
Of what had been done.
And what was still possible.