The presidential briefing room was filled with thick cigar smoke and thin patience.
General Ajayi slammed a file onto the long mahogany table.
Photos of the protest. Drones. Burnt trucks. VDM's face—printed in red.
"He's not just a protester anymore," Ajayi growled. "He's a terrorist with a fanbase."
Across from him, the Minister of Information scrolled through TikTok clips in silence.
"The youth love him," she muttered. "They call him the People's Prophet."
"Then it's time we crucify their prophet."
The President, silent all this time, finally leaned forward.
"Make it look like the people turned on him. Discredit him. Divide them. Then… erase him."
Meanwhile…
Back in the shadows of the city, VDM paced.
Tayo's phone was buzzing nonstop. New followers. Donations. International attention. Even a foreign news agency had requested an interview with VDM.
"We're finally getting to them," Tayo said. "They're scared."
VDM nodded but didn't smile.
"Scared people are dangerous," he said. "Especially when they wear suits and hold guns."
He pulled out a flash drive from his hoodie and tossed it to Tayo.
"This is from Halima. Before they took her. It's encrypted."
Tayo inserted the drive into his laptop. A single file blinked to life.
"Operation Cleansweep – Targets List"
VDM's eyes narrowed.
It wasn't just names of protesters.
There were influencers, journalists, doctors, comedians, students… even children of activists.
"They're building a kill list," VDM whispered.
Suddenly, the power cut.
The room went dark.
Then—
A red dot appeared on the wall.
Laser.
Sniper.
"DOWN!" Tayo screamed.
A window shattered. Gunshot. Sparks.
They hit the floor hard, breathing heavy.
The revolution wasn't just online anymore.
It was war.
The streets were still smoldering, but the internet was on fire.
Clips of Very Dark Man facing down armed soldiers had gone global. His voice—raw, defiant, unfiltered—was now a rallying cry for youth in every corner of the nation.
"Shoot me, and make me a martyr."
The quote was everywhere. On shirts, on murals, in profile bios.
Even school kids were whispering it in the hallways like a secret spell.
Inside a small abandoned classroom turned HQ, VDM and Tayo worked in silence.
A cracked monitor glowed in the dark.
Power was patchy. But the signal was alive.
"They're calling you the 'People's Prophet,'" Tayo said, scanning the screen.
VDM didn't smile.
"I'm not a prophet. Just a man who's tired."
Suddenly, Tayo's phone buzzed.
@KorexGold just followed you.
"You know this guy?" VDM asked.
Tayo raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah. Fashion influencer. Millions of followers. He went viral for roasting a corrupt politician once. Big name."
VDM read the DM Korex had sent:
"Yo, bro. Much respect. You're doing the Lord's work. Let's talk. Got a studio. Got resources. And I got reach. You want to win this war? Let's scale it.
#PowerToThePeople ✊🏾"
VDM leaned back in his seat. His eyes narrowed.
"Everyone wants to help when the fire is hot."
"Yeah," Tayo muttered. "That's how snakes slither in."
Later that night…
The revolution had gone digital.
Young creatives were remixing protest chants into songs.
Dancers performed on TikTok with masked faces and #JusticeDanceChallenge tags.
Poets dropped spoken-word bombs that made national radio.
"We post our pain, they post propaganda."
"They steal our future, we go live and steal it back."
VDM scrolled in silence. He saw people with no money, no hope—but full of fight.
"They think they've broken us," he said to Tayo.
"But we've become fire."
Meanwhile… in a hidden office across town
A sleek black Mercedes pulled into a compound lined with barbed wire.
Korex Gold stepped out, shades on, smile tight. Inside, he met with General Ajayi and a plain-clothed intelligence officer.
"You sure you can get close to him?" the General asked.
"He already replied to my DM," Korex said with a smirk. "Man's hungry for visibility. I'm his golden ticket."
"Good," the officer said. "Don't just infiltrate. Influence. Guide him toward destruction—and when the time is right…"
He drew his thumb across his neck.
"Make him the villain."
Korex's eyes glittered.
"Say less."
Rain tapped against the tin roof of the safe house like distant gunfire.
The smell of roasted corn and smoke drifted in from the street outside.
VDM stood at the window, hoodie up, eyes watching shadows move in the alley.
Behind him, Tayo typed furiously on a cracked laptop, patching together raw footage from last week's protest. He barely noticed the knock.
Three taps. Then silence.
Another knock. Two short, one long.
The signal.
Tayo rose and cracked open the door.
Korex Gold stepped inside like he was entering a VIP lounge.
Tall. Clean. Too clean.
Designer jacket. Flashy wristwatch.
Phone already recording—"just for my vlog, bro."
"Damn," Korex said, taking in the dim room and busted fan.
"Didn't think the People's Prophet was living like a ghost."
VDM didn't smile.
"We're fighting ghosts. The kind that wear uniforms and sit on thrones."
Korex chuckled, easing into a seat.
"That's why I'm here. I believe in what you're doing. I've got resources—studio, cameras, editors, reach. Two million followers. You've got the fire. I've got the fuel."
Tayo folded his arms.
"And what do you want in return? A protest selfie? A t-shirt line?"
Korex smiled at him, but there was something cold behind it.
"Relax, big man. I'm not here to clout chase. I'm here to amplify. We're on the same side… aren't we?"
VDM raised an eyebrow.
"Time will tell."
Later that day…
In Korex's downtown studio, VDM sat beneath bright LED lights.
Behind him: a green screen showing clips of protests, crowds, and burning tires.
A camera rolled.
"State your name," Korex said from behind the lens.
"My name is irrelevant," VDM said. "What matters is that I speak for the broken.
The forgotten. The betrayed."
Tayo watched from the corner, arms crossed.
The video would go viral. They all knew it.
Elsewhere that night…
Korex was back in his luxury car, talking into a burner phone.
"He's in," he whispered. "Gave me access to his private drive. Planning something big. A nationwide rally."
A pause.
"Good," the voice replied. "Record everything. When it's time, we'll burn him with his own words."
Korex smiled as the phone clicked off.
He stared out the window.
"Sorry, Prophet. Your rise is just the setup for your fall."
📌 Closing Scene:
VDM, back in his safehouse, rewatched the footage they recorded.
Tayo leaned in.
"You sure you trust this guy?"
VDM didn't answer. His face unreadable.
Outside, thunder rolled.
Inside, the betrayal had already begun.