Lagos, 2079 – NDLEC Black Archive, Ikoyi Sector – 10:46 A.M.
Tunde stood in front of the biometric gate to the NDLEC Black Archive, a cold cube of concrete and plasma shielding buried beneath the ruins of the old Ikoyi military barracks. Only four agents in the entire agency had direct access. He wasn't one of them.
But today, he wasn't Tunde.
Today, he was Agent Kalu Ikenna, a deep-cover intelligence analyst with Level-5 clearance, freshly returned from operations in Algeria. A dead man, according to public records — but kept "alive" in a backdoor system his handler, Major Arewa, had taught him to exploit in emergencies.
Alero waited in a nondescript hover outside the compound, parked behind a defunct agro-cube stall. She'd offered to come in, but Tunde had insisted he go alone. Too many variables. Too many eyes.
He pressed his thumb to the panel.
A laser scanned his retina.
A moment's hesitation.
Then: ACCESS GRANTED.
The door slid open with a sigh. Tunde stepped into a world of silence and secrets.
Rows of hardline terminals lined the narrow chamber. The air smelled of ozone and decay. Surveillance feeds, confiscated drone footage, agent reports — all buried here. Forgotten. Archived. Until needed.
Tunde moved to Terminal 9 — an old hybrid interface, partially shielded from remote tracking. He jacked in his implant and input the coordinates tied to Kasim Bako's name.
The screen flickered, hesitated… then flooded with redacted files.
He bypassed them manually. His implant hummed with effort, overheating slightly. Layers peeled away — reports from 2074, 2076, 2078. Keywords: Echelon Energy. Neon Dust. Blacksite 17X. Warri Delta.
Then he found it.
Operation WhisperSpine
Classified Joint Task: NDLEC + UN-PMC + Interior Security Ministry
Primary Objective: Development & Controlled Distribution of Modified Psychotropic Compounds for Crowd Manipulation and Social Compliance Testing (Codename: NEON).
Oversight: Minister Kasim Bako.
Initial Trials: Warri Blacksite 17X, status – Active.
Field Failure: Subject contamination. Project repurposed for civilian application through third-party distributors.
Tunde's stomach churned.
This wasn't just drug trafficking.
This was state-sponsored chemical control—a weaponized drug disguised as street poison, designed to pacify populations and test neurological suppression on dissidents. And when the project spiraled, they dumped the product into the black market to profit and cover it up.
Neon Dust wasn't just a narcotic.
It was a failed experiment.
A weapon.
He downloaded everything to an encrypted data shard, wiped all trace of his access, and pulled out.
But just as he reached the main corridor, the emergency lights dimmed.
Doors locked.
His implant flashed red: ALERT. PRESENCE DETECTED.
From the shadows, a tall figure emerged — suited in obsidian armor, face masked behind a reflective visor. NDLEC? No. Too clean. Too fast.
The man spoke, voice modulated. "You shouldn't be here, Kalu."
Tunde's heart pounded. His cover was burned.
"I don't know who you think—"
"Save it. The moment you entered that terminal, you became a problem."
The agent drew a pulse pistol — not a warning shot, but center-mass.
Tunde launched himself sideways just as the weapon discharged, the plasma bolt searing the wall where his head had been a second before. He rolled, pulled a compact EMP dart from his belt — improvised, old tech — and flung it at the man.
Direct hit.
The figure jolted, armor systems glitching just long enough for Tunde to leap past and override the exit panel.
He burst out of the archive, sprinting past stunned guards before security protocols reengaged. Alero was already peeling out of the alley in the hover.
She didn't ask questions. Just pulled him in.
"What did you find?" she asked as the city blurred behind them.
Tunde stared at the data shard in his hand like it was a ticking bomb.
"Proof that this country isn't just high," he whispered. "It's being drugged on purpose."
Alero didn't flinch.
"Then we burn the whole damn thing down."