The Ghost Code

Chapter 3: Broadcast the Apocalypse

8:42 A.M. at the Safe house War Room

The flash drive hummed in Amira’s laptop, casting flickers of blue light across her determined face. On the wall, three monitors ran parallel—each cycling through live CCTV feeds, security diagrams, and a red countdown timer ticking down from 13:18:46.

That was how long they had before Ghost Code went live.

Darius paced behind her, tense. Coiled. The floor creaked under his weight like it could feel the gravity of what they were about to do.

“They’ve programmed the system to sync with the city’s surveillance grid,” Amira explained, her voice tight with disbelief. “Smart lights, traffic cams, personal devices. Anything with a lens becomes a weapon. Any heat signature can be a kill command.”

Darius stopped.

“They’re turning the city into a hunting ground.”

Amira looked up. “We have one shot. If we broadcast the data through a secure node before the system syncs, the world will see it. Every single murder plot. Every political target. They won’t be able to bury it.”

He stared at the screen.

“Where’s the node?”

She hesitated. “Eastpoint. WPNR Channel 5. Local access news.”

Darius blinked. “That dinosaur still exists?”

She nodded. “It’s analog at its core. Pre-digital backup systems, old transmitters. The only signal Vale can’t corrupt in real-time.”

“Then that’s where we go.”

10:14 A.M. at WPNR Channel 5 Broadcast Tower

The building was a relic. Cracked concrete steps, faded logos, and a half-dead satellite dish on the roof. Inside, dust coated every surface, and the air reeked of burnt coffee and old wires. But the tech was still alive.

Just buried.

Darius and Amira moved quickly through the deserted newsroom, past old editing bays and news anchors’ desks still littered with scripts from months ago.

She found the server closet and pulled a manual switch. The generators buzzed.

Lights flickered.

“We’re live,” she said.

Darius handed her the flash drive. “Plug it in. Queue the files. No edits. No filters.”

Amira hesitated. “You sure?”

He looked at her.

“The world thinks I’m dead. Time they knew who actually killed me.”

11:06 A.M. at the Syndicate HQ, Downtown

Langston Vale stood in his glass tower office, watching a blacked-out screen flicker with static.

“Find them,” he snarled. “They’re bleeding information. The network’s compromised.”

A junior tech ran in, pale. “Sir. We found the signal. Local news station. WPNR Channel 5. Eastpoint. They’re broadcasting everything.”

Vale’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“Send the Reapers.”

11:22 A.M. at the WPNR Channel 5 Studio

The first clip hit the airwaves.

A young politician, marked “Threat Level 9,” assassinated in real-time by a drone cam disguised as a delivery bot.

The second clip: A surveillance log targeting a whistleblower journalist. Her last known movements, logged and cataloged with eerie precision.

Then footage of a warehouse bodies lined up like data points, red grids painted over them like they were software errors, not people.

All tagged: Test Phase: GHOST CODE V4.1 | Status: COMPLETE.

The signal spread like wildfire. It pinged to independent journalists, watchdog groups, foreign diplomats. Screens lit up across the city.

And then came Darius.

Amira loaded his old service file and combat footage into the stream. Side by side: the government’s report of a rogue operative gone AWOL… and the uncut footage of him begging to abort the mission before the facility burned.

He stood in front of the camera now, eyes sharp. Focused.

“My name is Darius Raines. I was a soldier. A patriot. I helped build Ghost Code. I thought I was building a safeguard. I was wrong.”

He leaned closer.

“They burned me. Buried me. Framed me. Now I’m returning the favor.”

11:44 A.M. at the Outside WPNR Studio

The street fell silent before the vans came.

Three black, unmarked vehicles pulled to the curb.

Men stepped out. Tactical gear. Face shields. No insignia.

Reapers.

Darius saw them through the lobby cam. “They’re here.”

Amira pulled the drive and stuffed it in her vest. “We go now. Backup plan.”

He nodded. “South stairwell. Roof exit.”

They moved fast. But the Reapers were faster.

The moment they hit the third floor, bullets screamed.

Glass shattered. Wall panels exploded.

Darius shoved Amira into the stairwell, returned fire, dropped two of them but more poured in like roaches.

The corridor filled with gas. Darius held his breath and moved like a ghost silent, lethal.

He grabbed a Reaper, slammed him into a server rack, twisted until bone cracked. Another came behind knife swipe. Darius ducked, disarmed, drove the blade up through the neck.

Two more. EMP tossed. Shorted their visors. Gunfire. Muzzle flash.

Then silence.

11:59 A.M. at the Rooftop, WPNR

Amira burst through the rooftop access, lungs burning. Darius followed, bleeding from a deep gash in his shoulder.

A single drone hovered above, scanning. She yanked the flare gun from her belt and fired.

The drone swerved, tracking the heat source—just as Darius aimed his sniper pistol and pulled the trigger.

POP. The drone burst like a firework, spiraling into the antenna array.

Amira grabbed his arm. “We have the footage. It’s already mirrored. Multiple clouds. No stopping it now.”

Darius winced. “Then we run. Before they nuke this whole damn block.”

12:12 P.M. at the Syndicate HQ

Vale stood frozen, watching the internet implode.

Every major outlet. Every feed. Hashtags trending worldwide.

#GhostCode

#BurnedByTheSystem

#DariusRaines

Malik entered, silent.

“They’re gone,” he said.

Vale turned slowly. “I gave you a chance to end this. You failed.”

Malik didn’t flinch. “No. I watched you fail. And I watched him win.”

Vale reached for his sidearm.

Malik was faster.

One shot.

Vale dropped.

Blood pooled across his sleek office floor.

Malik picked up the hard drive Vale had tried to secure, slipped it into his coat.

Then he vanished.

12:30 P.M. Moving Vehicle, at an Abandoned Highway

Amira wrapped Darius’s wound in the back seat of the stolen car, jaw clenched.

“We got it out,” she said. “The whole truth.”

Darius stared at the cracked windshield ahead, the dead road stretching into the horizon.

“And now they’ll come for us harder.”

She smirked. “Let them try.”

He looked at her, something soft and heavy behind his eyes.

“You stayed. After everything.”

She leaned back, the silence between them thicker than before.

“I never stopped believing you were alive. I just needed you to remember who you were.”

He didn’t answer right away.

Then

“I remember now.”

1:00 P.M. at the Global Broadcast Networks

News anchors scrambled to catch up. Military advisors denied all involvement. Politicians pointed fingers. The world reeled.

And behind it all, one name spread like a virus.

DARIUS RAINES.

A ghost come back to burn the system down.