Dawn of Reinforcement
The morning Lagos awoke to new tension. The sky was steel-gray, draped over the city like a theater curtain ready to drop on the next act. Sirens mixed with the hum of traffic, but inside their safehouse, a nondescript building on the edge of Yaba, only silence spoke.
Adesuwa hunched over the blueprint board. Red dots. Blue dots. Faint trails of satellite coverage. Overlaid on the layout were Governor Ifeanyi, Chief Ugo, Dr. Salome, advocates, hidden sympathizers, and those whose power hid behind charity or commerce. At the bottom, scrawled in her handwriting: OFF-GRID
They were staging a counterstrike but had not yet engaged.
Zee's voice had disappeared, but her system still haunted them; every transaction, every taxi call, and every safehouse had leaked through the bug. Only the off-grid plans remained hidden: paper, memory, and analog signals.
Arapost, alias "Lanre," slipped in, coat dripping from rain.
"Bunker code breached. They came close. We lost the Delta cell."
Adesuwa didn't flinch. She placed a finger on a bunker coordinate.
"They knew exactly where we responded. That means they're reading everything, not just plans inside the system. They may have human eyes too."
Dapo nodded, grim.
"We strike outward then. Not inward."
Adesuwa closed her eyes.
"No. We strike both."
Escalation Strategy
They convened at 0800 across five off-grid locations, remnants of Lagos's old insurgency networks: abandoned railway stations, bunkers beneath markets, and safehouses in Isolo.
Adesuwa spoke into each encrypted mic:
"When we exposed their digital nerve, they hit back with physical fire. But in every attack, there's a pattern, predictable retrieval points, and shared scripts. They learned how we move in the system, but not how we move when there is no system."
Tunde mapped it.
Phase One: Psychological. leak contradictory intel in two zones; sow doubt. Phase Two: Distract with a soft attack on the northern supply lines. Phase Three: Counterstrike, hit The Circle's Black Ops registry in Lekki using memory cells only. Phase Four: Expose and leak the identities of their financial sponsors.
Lanre added emphasis:
"Build belief. Mobilize the Vanguard."
The Circle Responds
Elsewhere, in an upscale penthouse overlooking Victoria Island, Madam Kes received the update.
"They are strengthening underground. They're moving off-grid. They're unpredictable again."
Her phone lit up with an incoming call from General Mike Oshodi.
"Our assets reported suspicious cell gatherings in Apapa. They're using analog lines. We'll locate them by midnight."
Madam Kes mixed a drink.
"Then let us remind them why the Circle was built."
She signed an order.
Mobilize Sentinel Teams (ex-military, unstated loyalty). Activate a counterintelligence sweep, home raids, and ghost surveillance. Reboot the compromised cyber grid with human controllers.
Beneath the polished veneer lay a ruthless chessboard, another opponent entering the fray.
Black Ops in the Market
That evening, two vans rolled into Oyingbo market. Men disguised as produce vendors, muscle, suppressed firearms, and silencers loaded.
Dapo watched from behind crates of yams, sweat on his brow. He passed a note to his partner: "Populace evacuated per plan."
They had three minutes before the sweep teams arrived.
At 0:14, the van doors opened. The Sweep Team moved. Bullets were fired but contained dummy rounds, flashbangs, and smoke.
In the chaos, the Vanguard teams moved in, securing intel terminals planted near service entries. They grabbed SD cards recording register purchases, money flows, vendor names, and contacts.
It was not violent. But it was enough. Enough to get pieces of The Circle's hidden economy.
Midnight Gathering: Tell the Crowd
Adesuwa stood at a cracked overpass overlooking the Makoko slums. A mosaic of lamps in reed huts, children watching below as she spoke on a handheld camera.
"Lagos. You and I know these streets have seen more power than any hall of government. We know the machines behind those facades. They've tracked us, them, the market—you just saw it in."
She paused.
"They wanted to shape your loyalties with money and hum. They want to dilute your belief in equality."
The camera cuts to an SD card spinning on a table, records, accounts, and payments to known ministers.
"They bought influence in the open, cleaned it with charity, and fed it to the weak."
She looked into the camera.
"Well. We have records now. The Vanguard will rise."
Words sparked across private networks, advocates and activists sharing, retweeting, and forwarding to blindboxes.
Behind the shot, she slipped into the back alleys, disappearing like smoke.
Counterattack
At 2:27 a.m., two bombs exploded in tandem, one at the Makoko overpass and another outside the Ikom vault. Panic spread. Hundred cars screeched, and alarms joined voices.
Adesuwa wasn't there. She was halfway to Lekki.
But the hits had been timed to coincide with her statement.
The Circle had learned again: strike reaction. Strike fear.
They held not. They had anticipated it.
Sirens wailed.
The Hidden Architect
Madam Kes received the simultaneous report. She sighed.
"They're slipping off-grid too well."
On her desk lay another file, marked VEIN-04. Inside were contracts and dossiers, not by known Circle members, but by international private equity groups. Sequences appeared: African Front Equity, Western Nexus Investments, and covert financiers with ties to foreign governments.
The Circle was no longer Lagos's property. It was global.
Bloodlines and invest lines.
Flashback: Old Friends
Adesuwa remembered a late-night call from Tunde months ago.
He had said, "The plan not written is the only one untraceable."
They had laughed.
That was before Zee's system betrayed their coded silence.
Before, human assets were lined with traces leading back to their safehouses.
Before Dapo's brother disappeared.
Now, they needed new plans, ones drawn by memory, not code. By intuition, not digital guts.
The Vanguard Mobilizes
Across eight off-grid locations:
Mock trials of silent operations, Weapon drills in shipping containers, Civilians taught first aid in case of sweep failures
Undercover messaging: food distribution at crisis sites, rallies calling for transparency, journalistic leaks timed to bursts of activity.
Every move was part battle, part narrative.
The Botched Raid
At 3:45 a.m., Adesuwa's team breached an asset registry near Lekki Phase 2.
Just as they secured the door, they heard a hiss.
Tunde looked at her. "This is a STING."
Within seconds, gunfire erupted.
Vanguard teams scattered. One captured. Another fleeing.
Adesuwa fired back, smoke curling from the barrel, heart pounding.
They retreated.
"Everyone accounted for?" she asked.
Dapo cradled the captured Vanguard member.
"He's alive, but we lost half."
Adesuwa felt that familiar weight.
Crisis Meeting
At 5:00 a.m., the lich-like bunker convened again.
Adesuwa slammed her fist on the table.
"They know our playbook."
"They learned from our footprints," Tunde agreed.
Lanre whispered, "Zee's failsafes, they're working for them, not for us."
Adesuwa closed her eyes.
She drew a single deep breath. Then:
"We go IRL."
Human Intelligence Network
They activated Project Vanguard Veins.
Return to first principles, phone trees, and low-tech signaling. Recruit fishermen, mechanics, and students unconnected to code. Use honey-pots during the daytime; charity work with surveillance ties built. Launch "memorabilia drop zones", papers we cannot track, ideas we can't code
They had to drown The Circle in analog trust before they could kill them digitally.
Final Shock and Reveal
At dusk, Adesuwa met quietly with General Otokpa, once a Circle stooge, now turned potential asset after collateral damage in a mock raid.
He slipped her a photo.
Not a politician.
A face from her past.
Her former mentor in the Agency, Commissioner Regina Emele.
"She's the one who testified against us, but we never saw her file."
"She's the heart of this," he whispered.
Adesuwa's eyes crackled.
"She's been building the infrastructure for the Circle from inside the Republic."
Regina's smug smile in the photo cut through Adesuwa's insides.
Rage in Rain
Late night, final page of the boardroom.
Adesuwa stood over the map with laneways scribbled in ink.
"She set the blueprint for the Circle. Then flew under its radar. Regina Emele is our next target."
Outside, the rain began again.
Not cleansing. But heralding a war.