I want to become a killer

The hours after the leak felt like a waking nightmare. We had anticipated backlash, but nothing could have prepared us for the flood of chaos that followed. The first few reactions were predictable—outraged politicians calling the documents fabricated, conspiracy theorists online spreading counter-narratives, claiming the leak was part of a bigger government plot. But it didn't stop there. The people, the ones who had followed us, were divided. Some rallied, enraged at the betrayal they'd just learned about, but others—too many others—were overwhelmed, paralyzed by the sheer weight of what we had exposed.

I sat in the command center, staring at the news feeds as the situation devolved. Public protests erupted in several parts of the city, but they weren't united. They were scattered, fueled more by confusion and fear than by the sense of purpose that had driven us months ago. The crowds were a mix of anger and panic, unsure of what to do with the truth we had given them. Some screamed for retribution, some demanded justice, but others simply… froze, unsure if they were ready for the consequences.

Mara paced behind me, her face a mask of frustration. She was too calm—too composed, and I could tell it was because she was hiding something, something she wasn't saying. Her fingers drummed against the back of her chair, a nervous tic that had become more pronounced in the last few hours.

"What are you thinking?" I finally asked, breaking the silence that had hung between us since the leak.

She turned to me, her eyes sharp. "I'm thinking we made a mistake. Maybe we pushed too fast."

I could hear the doubt in her voice, the same doubt that had been creeping up on me. She wasn't wrong. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe we should have prepared them—given the people a roadmap to process what was happening, to understand what it meant for them. But that's not what we had done. We had dropped a bomb and waited for the pieces to fall, expecting the world to just fall into line.

"We had no choice," I said, though even as I said it, I wasn't sure anymore. "We couldn't have waited. The longer we kept it under wraps, the more damage they could do. We had to act."

Mara stopped pacing and turned to face me, her expression hardening. "You're right. But now we have to deal with the fallout. And if we don't control it, we're going to lose everything."

I stood up, the weight of what we had set in motion pressing on me, like a thousand pounds crushing my chest. She was right. We couldn't just let the narrative unfold on its own. We had to take charge of it, shape it, make sure the people understood what they were seeing. The revolution wasn't over yet—it was just beginning. And if we didn't take control of the narrative, we'd lose the trust of those who were still willing to listen.

"Okay," I said, swallowing the knot in my throat. "Let's figure out our next move. We need to stabilize the situation before it gets out of hand."

Mara nodded, her eyes already flickering over the monitors, scanning the growing unrest across the city. "The media's already spinning it. They're framing it as an attack on the government—just like we predicted. They're calling it a foreign-backed smear campaign. If we don't counter it, we'll lose the narrative completely."

I exhaled sharply. The media was always the hardest battlefield. Truth didn't matter in the media war—it was all about control, influence, and perception. We had to find a way to turn the tide, to make sure the people saw what was really at stake.

"We need a counter-narrative," I said, my mind racing. "Something they can rally behind, something to unite them. They can't just see the corruption; they have to see the hope—the reason for fighting. We can't let them think this was just about exposing the bad guys. This is about them, the people. About taking back what's theirs."

Mara looked at me, her brow furrowed. "You want to make this personal. You want to shift the focus to the people—not the government?"

"Yes," I said, my voice gaining strength. "This is about us. We've been fighting for a new world, and we can't let them forget that. If we let them keep the focus on the old system, we lose. But if we make them believe this is their revolution, something they own, something that belongs to them, we can still win."

Mara considered my words carefully, then nodded. "Okay. Let's create the narrative. We control the leaks, we control the message. We shift the focus."

I sat back down at my desk, taking a deep breath. I wasn't sure how we were going to pull this off, but I knew we had to try. The danger of losing control of the story—of letting the government and their media allies turn the leaks into an attack on the people—was too great. If the revolution failed now, if the people saw this as nothing but a betrayal, we would be finished.

"We'll release a statement," I said, the idea forming in my mind. "We tell the people what we've found—yes—but we also tell them what this means for them. We make it clear that this isn't just about taking down the corrupt politicians or the corporate overlords. This is about dismantling a system that has kept them enslaved for too long. This is about freedom. Real freedom."

"And you think they'll buy it?" Mara asked, her voice tinged with doubt. "I mean, after everything we've exposed? They're scared, Psycho. They don't know who to trust anymore."

I leaned forward, my fingers pressing against the cold surface of the desk as I searched for the right words. "They have to trust us. We've been fighting for this moment for too long. We can't let them be afraid. We tell them the truth—the whole truth. And we show them what we're fighting for. It's bigger than any of us. It's for them. It always has been."

Mara didn't respond immediately. She just stared at me, her expression unreadable. But then she gave a small nod. "Alright. We'll make it happen. But we need to move fast. The longer we wait, the more ground we lose."

I stood up, my heart beating faster now, not with fear but with the certainty that this was the only path left. The revolution wasn't about us anymore. It never had been. It was about the people. And if we were going to keep them in the fight, we had to give them something to believe in.

As Mara began typing up the statement, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were about to cross a threshold—one that would define the outcome of everything. There was no going back, not anymore. Whatever happened next would change the course of the revolution. And maybe, just maybe, it would change the world.

If we could make the people believe in it.

........

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