University of Abuja – Subsurface Level, Zone 4 Data Silo – 1:44 A.M.
The underground vault beneath the University of Abuja didn't look like much on the surface.
A sealed academic building. A dormant AI research wing. Two janitors who were actually ex-Black Echo agents in disguise. But below? It was a fortress. Pressure-sealed floors. Heat-masking walls. Guard patrols backed by semi-sentient drones and a climate-controlled server forest run by neuro-coded security loops.
Exactly where NDLEC would stash the weekly encryption key to control the Core Comm Tower.
Tunde crouched on a rooftop across the street, eyes locked on the building's side entrance through his retinal uplink. He wore the new Ghost Suit — and for the first time in weeks, he felt weightless.
Below, Alero and Octave waited in the shadows of a delivery vehicle. Behind them, Glyph sat cross-legged on a static mat, jacked into the vault's outer systems. Her fingers moved like wind across her portable deck, eyes milky white from a cocktail of stimulants and interface drugs.
"We're in," Glyph whispered over comms. "You've got a six-minute blind window before the system realizes the patrol loops have frozen. After that, you're on your own."
"Copy," Tunde replied. "Go loud only if I signal."
"You won't have time to signal," Alero muttered, checking her blade. "So don't mess up."
The group split.
Tunde slipped in through the vent access shaft using thermal-guided movements. The Ghost Suit shimmered faintly, adjusting to the darkness. He moved like a breath — bypassing motion detectors, crossing laser tripwires mid-glide.
Inside, the vault corridor looked like something from an alien ship — hexagonal walls laced with glowing veins of data, pulsing slow like a heartbeat.
Boom.
A soft pulse behind him. A door hissed open.
Alero entered, soaked in shadows. Her suit adapted to the sterile light like skin adjusting to heat. She tossed Tunde a small cube.
"EMP mine," she said. "For the exit, in case we're tailed."
"Thought you didn't believe in backup," Tunde smirked.
"I don't. This is for me."
They moved deeper. Past biometric doors, neural locks. Glyph was a genius — she'd mapped the system based on leaked server heat patterns and janitor patrol shifts from hacked personal devices.
By the time they reached the core vault chamber, only thirty seconds remained on the blind loop.
Octave was already inside, hunched over a tall column of servers, yanking the encrypted key from a cryo-sealed drive.
"Got it!" he said, just as the lights flickered red.
ALERT. PATTERN INTERRUPTION. SECURITY LOCKDOWN INITIATED.
Doors slammed.
Turrets descended from the ceiling with a metallic scream.
Octave dove behind a pillar. "We're screwed!"
Tunde didn't hesitate. He sprinted forward, slid under the first turret's arc, and threw a sonic disrupter into its base. It exploded in a soundless burst, frying the targeting sensors.
Alero moved like smoke — climbing a wall column, vaulting over a second turret, and slashing it with a magnetic blade that sent its circuits into seizure.
"Fallback route?" she shouted.
"Back to the research lab!" Tunde barked. "Through the vent shaft!"
As the alarms shrieked louder, Octave shoved the drive into a protective case and ducked behind Tunde.
But they didn't get far.
Standing at the corridor's end, flanked by two armed guards, was a tall man in an NDLEC neural suit, with a silver ring under one eye and a scar like a lightning bolt down his cheek.
Commander Bashir Lawal.
Tunde knew that name.
Ex-DSS. Now head of NDLEC's White Ops in Abuja. A known ghost killer. Rumored to have personally tortured three foreign cyber-mercs into submission during the Dakar Intercepts.
"Well well," Bashir said, smiling coldly. "The street dog lives. And he's brought playmates."
Tunde stepped forward. "You're off-script, Commander. Last I checked, NDLEC didn't kill its own in university basements."
Bashir laughed. "NDLEC doesn't. I do."
He raised a hand.
The guards opened fire.
Chaos exploded.
Alero pulled Tunde to cover, hurling a smoke charge that jammed the visual sensors. Bullets sparked against the walls. Octave screamed as a round grazed his leg, then returned fire with a plasma pulse from his hacked pistol.
Tunde spun out, rolled across the floor, and kicked one guard in the chest — disabling his exo-suit power pack with a stab of a conductive rod.
Alero met Bashir blade-to-blade. The man was fast. Trained.
Brutal.
But so was she.
They danced between flickering lights, blades slashing, boots kicking, fists breaking bone. For a moment, it seemed Bashir might win.
Then Tunde tackled him from behind, injecting a low-voltage shock into the back of his neck.
The man crumpled.
"Move!" Alero shouted.
They ran — dragging Octave, dodging flickering defenses. Tunde activated the EMP cube just before exiting the shaft. The blast wiped every camera within a 20-meter radius.
By the time NDLEC regained full visual control, the trio was gone.
Vanished.
Like ghosts.
....
Resistance Safehouse – 4:02 A.M.
The encryption drive sat in the center of the table, humming softly.
"Let's see what secrets they're hiding," Tunde said, his voice tired but sharp.
Arewa stared at the drive, a haunted look in his eyes.
"If this has what I think it does… then we're not just fighting a cartel. We're fighting a government addicted to power."
"And power," Alero said, lighting a cigarette, "doesn't detox easy."