The morning after the sniper chaos, Jaylen woke to silence. There were no fan chants outside his hotel, no reporters waiting for a quote, it was only the hum of sound from the static television. He rolled over and grabbed his phone.The screen bled with headlines. Even Jaylen couldn't hold his surprise. “Jaylen Cruz Secret Arrest Record Surfaces.”“Falsified Contracts: Did the Rising Star Cheat His Way Up?”“Paternity Suits Filed, Three Women Claim Jaylen as Absent Father.”'Huh, what's this shit again?' His chest tightened. He made a single scroll down the feed, and the poison spread deeper. Fake mugshots, fake screenshots of contracts, and edited clips of him supposedly arguing with the police. Each one slick, polished and impossible to trace at first glance.The System chimed coldly in his vision,“New Narrative Detected: Fabricated Scandal Surge. Source Analysis: 92% match – Helena Crowe. Risk Level: CRITICAL.”Jaylen slammed his fist against the nightstand. “Helena again. She w

The crowd in Boston pulsed like a living ocean with lights flickering off thousands of raised phones. The air was thick with bass, sweat, and electricity. Jaylen gripped the mic with sweat dripping and adrenaline pounding. “From the ashes I rise, no chain on my breath,They want silence, I give ‘em life instead of death. Boston, are you with me?”The arena roared back in a deafening roar. DeShawn shouted from the side of the stage, “This one, Jay! You ownin’ the East Coast tonight!”Jaylen threw his arms wide and soaked in the sound. For one split second, he believed he had finally gotten his peace out of the chaos.And then the lights went out.The music cut mid-beat. A harsh crack echoed from above. Sparks rained down from the lighting rigs. The stage floor trembled under Jaylen’s boots.“Yo… DeShawn?!” Jaylen shouted into the darkness.The System screamed across his vision,“ALERT: Sabotage Detected. Infrastructure Breach. Warning: Structural Collapse Imminent - 11 Seconds.”The

The Capitol’s marble steps had never felt heavier beneath Jaylen’s shoes. Cameras flashed from every angle, reporters screamed his name, and protesters chanted outside the iron gates. Some raised signs of support with words written in capital letters, “Jaylen Speaks for Us” but many screamed for his exile, holding banners painted with words like “Ban Him Now” and “Cultural Terrorist.”DeShawn muttered as they passed through security. “Man, this ain’t a hearing. This is a damn execution.”Jaylen didn’t answer. His jaw was tight and his hoodie pulled low. Inside, the vast chamber of the Senate echoed with voices and shuffling papers. It wasn’t a courtroom, but it looked and smelled like judgment. Senators filled the semicircle desks. Different cameras were lined behind them. Cassandra Vale stood at the podium like a queen about to seize her throne.And then, the System spoke,“Operation Siege: Phase 3, Exile Protocol.Directive: Secure Narrative or Face National Erasure. Support Networ

The night smelled terribly as the scent of smoke mixed with rain. It was a restless mix that clung to New York’s streets. Jaylen had been scheduled for a small pop-up show, an intimate venue tucked inside a converted warehouse in Brooklyn. After weeks of assassins, riots, and smear campaigns, this was supposed to be something different - something raw and unfiltered. Just him and the people.The stage lights flickered to life as Jaylen grabbed the mic.“Tonight ain’t about sponsors. Ain’t about charts. It’s about us,” he said, voice carrying across the crowded floor. Cheers roared back from the onlookers. It was the kind that shook the rafters.For a moment, it felt like salvation. Then the doors suddenly slammed open.Gasps rolled through the audience. A tall figure staggered into the warehouse. His shoulders were hunched and his face was covered beneath the hood of a leather jacket. When he lifted his head, the crowd froze in shock. It was Lazarus Payne.The man who had once been