"We are going to rebuild this country," Oliver said, his voice echoing in the small, dimly lit room. He looked at the others, his eyes burning with a conviction that felt new, even to him. "We will make it great. We will make it prosperous. And we will build it on equality. Inquilab Zindabad!"
David, hunched over his terminal, didn't look up, but his fingers danced across the mechanical keyboard with a rhythmic, aggressive click-clack.
"Now," David whispered. He pressed the Enter key with a heavy thud.
Thousands of emails flashed through the encrypted veins of the internet, bypassing state firewalls and landing simultaneously in the inboxes of the city's most corrupt officials. A digital virus, a ghost in the machine, was finally live.
"Now this is going to be interesting," David said, a cold smirk touching his lips. "Really, really interesting."
"Can we leave now?" Oliver asked. The adrenaline was fading, replaced by a heavy exhaustion.
"Yeah," David replied, snapping his laptop shut. "The ghost is out."
Jack looked at Oliver with a heavy, almost mournful expression. He placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder and squeezed. "You're in our team now, Oliver. There's no turning back. I'm sorry, brother."
David didn't offer any comfort. He gave Jack a strange look before walking into the shadows. Oliver turned to Jack. "Can I come with you?"
Jack shook his head. "Go home, Oliver. Jane is waiting. Don't spoil her mood by being late again."
Oliver's Home
Inside the apartment, Jane was on a video call with her best friend, her voice a hushed whisper.
"Something is not right with him," Jane said. "Oliver… he's acting so weird lately."
"Weird like what?" her friend's voice came through, sharp and suspicious. "Is it an affair?"
"No, I thought so at first, but now… I think it's something beyond that. Something much bigger."
"Beyond? Wooooo," her friend teased. "Then spy on him. If I were you, I'd throw that unemployed guy away and find someone rich. But if you won't leave, you need the truth. I know a guy who runs a detective organization. He can help you."
Jane bit her lip. "Isn't that… bad?"
"You love him, right? Then do it for him."
The sharp sound of a key turning in the lock echoed through the hallway. Jane's heart skipped a beat. "Oh no! It's Oliver. I'll call you back!"
She scrambled out of the bedroom just as Oliver stumbled in. He smelled of sweat and cheap liquor, his hair disheveled.
"Oliver? Are you drunk?" Jane asked, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger.
He looked at her, his eyes bloodshot and distant, his voice harsher than she had ever heard it. "Yes, I am. So what?"
"Why are you behaving so rude?" Jane asked. "Wait… let me make you some food."
She retreated to the kitchen, her heart hammering. She pulled a leftover pizza toward the table, her hands shaking. Oliver didn't respond; he marched straight into the bathroom and slammed the door. Soon, the sound of the shower began to echo through the small house.
As Jane walked back toward the living room, she saw it.
His phone.
It was lying right there on the steps of the house, abandoned in his drunken haste. Her mind began to scream: Take it. Take it now.
What if he sees? she argued with herself. What if he finds out I've lost my trust in him?
But the curiosity was a poison. She couldn't stop herself. She reached down and snatched the device. She stared at the lock screen. What would it be?
She tried the obvious: oliver1234
Error.
She tried his birthday: 19012001
Error.
She paused, thinking of his strange rants lately. His sudden passion for the "Inquilab." She tried one more, her fingers trembling: thesocialist1234
The screen flickered. Accepted.
At that exact moment, the shower cut off. The sudden silence was deafening. Jane's heart felt like it was pumping blood upward into her throat. She stared at the open home screen, her thumb hovering over the mail icon, as she heard the bathroom door handle click.