The NSDI headquarters in Abuja was a brutalist monument of concrete and glass, designed to project an image of unshakeable permanence. Yet, as Silas and Amaka approached the perimeter through the service tunnels of the city's drainage system, the building felt more like a hollowed-out shell. Inside, the New Guard was in a state of frantic cannibalism; shredders were whirring, hard drives were being degaussed, and the air was thick with the ozone of burning electronics. Major Hamza's purge had turned into a desperate attempt to erase the paper trail of twenty years of corruption.
But Silas wasn't interested in the modern floor plans. He was following a map etched into his memory, a architectural ghost passed down from the original 1914 surveyors. When the capital was moved to Abuja, the WATCHMEN had insisted on overseeing the construction of the "National Security Archive." What the government didn't know was that the archive they used was merely a decoy. The real vault the limestone sanctuary lay forty feet deeper, built into a natural cavern that predated the city itself.
[SCENE START]
INTERIOR: SERVICE TUNNEL BENEATH NSDI HQ - 3:15 AM
The tunnel is cramped, dripping with condensation. SILAS and AMAKA are wearing tactical gear, their faces smeared with charcoal. SILAS holds an old brass compass that seems to defy the magnetic interference of the building above.
AMAKA: The thermal scanners above us are going haywire. Hamza's teams are tearing the walls apart on Level 1. They think the Lugard Files are hidden in the ventilation ducts.
SILAS: (Tracing a seam in the concrete wall)
They're looking for paper and silicon. They don't understand that the WATCHMEN don't keep secrets in boxes. We keep them in the foundation. Lugard didn't trust the British colonial office, and he certainly didn't trust the Lagos capitalists. He built this vault to survive a nuclear strike or a revolution.
AMAKA: How do we open it? There's no keypad, no biometric scanner.
SILAS: (Pointing to a series of seemingly random indentations in the stone)
It's a weight-and-frequency lock. You have to vibrate the stone at a specific resonance while applying pressure to the three points of the 1914 Amalgamation. North, South, and the Nexus.
AMAKA: (Skeptical)
You're telling me the key to the nation's secrets is a tuning fork?
SILAS: (Pulling a heavy, specialized rod from his pack)
In 1914, they didn't have microchips. They had physics. Help me with the lever.
[SCENE END]
As Silas applied the rhythmic pressure, a low, tectonic groan echoed through the tunnel. A section of the wall, disguised as solid bedrock, receded with a smoothness that spoke of superior Victorian engineering. Beyond lay a staircase of white limestone, illuminated by chemical lamps that had been dormant for decades.
The air changed instantly. It was cool, dry, and smelled of cedar and old iron. This was the heart of the Originals. The walls were lined with leather-bound ledgers, each one containing the true history of Nigeria the names of the financiers who funded coups, the secret agreements with foreign oil giants, and the lists of every Watchman who had ever served.
At the center of the room sat a heavy iron chest. This was the goal: The Tredex City Ledger. It contained the encryption keys for the untraceable offshore accounts established in 1914, assets now worth billions, intended to fund the reconstruction of the state in the event of a total collapse.
[SCENE START]
INTERIOR: THE LIMESTONE VAULT CONTINUOUS
The room is silent except for the heavy breathing of the two operatives. SILAS approaches the iron chest. Suddenly, the sound of a heavy door slamming shut echoes from the staircase. MAJOR HAMZA emerges from the shadows, his uniform disheveled, a suppressed submachine gun leveled at Silas's chest.
HAMZA: (His voice echoing, ragged)
I should have known. You didn't want the General dead for justice. You wanted the money. You're just like the Lagos elite you claim to hate.
SILAS: (Slowly turning, hands empty)
If I wanted the money, Hamza, I would have taken it in '76 when Murtala died. This isn't a bank account. It's a leash.
HAMZA: A leash for whom? The transition council? The new President?
SILAS: For people like you. For the men who think that a uniform gives them the right to treat a nation like a personal fiefdom. This Ledger contains the names of every officer in the NSDI who took a bribe from the cartels. Including yours, Major.
HAMZA: (A flicker of hesitation)
I did what was necessary to keep the order! Without the NSDI, the country would have fractured into a thousand pieces during the June 12 riots.
SILAS: You didn't keep order. You kept a prisoner. Nigeria isn't a jail, and you aren't the warden. You're a Watchman who forgot his mandate. You were meant to watch the gates, not loot the treasury.
AMAKA: (Moving slightly to the left)
The NSDI is over, Hamza. The "Originals" have already transmitted the location of the secondary caches to the transition council. Even if you kill us, you can't stop the leak.
HAMZA: (Laughing bitterly)
You think those moderates are any better? They'll just use the Ledger to buy their own mansions in London. There is no purity, Silas. There is only power and the lack of it.
SILAS: (Stepping toward the gun)
Then why are your hands shaking, Major? If there is no purity, why do you look so afraid of a few old books?
[SCENE END]
The tension in the vault reached a breaking point. Hamza was a man caught between two worlds the brutal reality of the Abacha regime he helped build and the ghost of the honor he had once felt as a young recruit. Silas saw the conflict in the Major's eyes. He wasn't a villain in a melodrama; he was a tragic figure of a corrupted system.
Suddenly, the ceiling groaned. The Clean Sweep teams above had discovered the tunnel. Muffled explosions vibrated through the limestone. The building above was being purged, and the vault was no longer a secret.
"They're coming to burn it all, Hamza," Silas said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "They don't want the Ledger. They want the silence. If you stay here, you die protecting the very people who will replace you by morning. Give me the gun, and help us move the archive."
Hamza looked at the iron chest, then at the staircase where the sound of heavy boots was growing louder. For a moment, the three of them the Original, the Scientist, and the Shield stood as a microcosm of the nation's history.
[SCENE START]
INTERIOR: THE LIMESTONE VAULT - MOMENTS LATER
HAMZA: (Lowering the weapon)
If this Ledger is a lie, Silas... if you use this to become the next Abacha... I will find you. In this life or the next.
SILAS: If I become the next Abacha, Major, I expect you to be the one to give me the handshake.
HAMZA: (Grimly)
Where do we take it?
SILAS: To the one place Lugard knew no politician would ever look. The old botanical gardens in Lagos. Under the roots of the Iroko tree planted in 1914. We're taking the heart of the country back to where it started.
[SCENE END]