So there Kodi was.
Chained to a chair in a concrete tomb, buried God-knows-where under Europe. No clocks. No light. Just four walls and a camera watching his every breath.
This wasn't a government black site. It was older. Colder. Rothschild territory.
They didn't beat him.
They didn't need to.
They wanted him awake when they picked apart his mind.
When the door finally opened, it wasn't a soldier—it was him. The man Kodi had only seen in conspiracy videos and leaked Bilderberg lists.
A Rothschild.
But he didn't look like a god. Not anymore.
His thousand-dollar suit hung wrinkled and soaked in sweat. One shoe missing. Eyes sunken, dead.
"You broke the system," the old man whispered. "Do you know what you've done?"
Kodi didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
An hour earlier, somewhere deep inside the compound, a junior guard named Marek—young, nervous, sharp-eyed—got a message.
No name. No instructions.
Just a flash drive with one word on it:
"EDEN"
He plugged it in.
The cameras went black.
The doors unlatched.
The vaults opened.
And the world changed.
Bank accounts vanished.
Encrypted arms deals leaked across the net.
Coordinates to the Rothschild facility—this one—blasted to every major social platform like a virus. Facebook. Twitter. Reddit. YouTube mystery channels. TikTok teens made explainer vids by the minute.
The Rothschilds weren't just exposed.They were trending.
Kodi's door swung open.
Marek stood there, pale and shaking. "If I don't let you go, the whole place burns."
Kodi smiled.
"I already lit the match."
Behind them, the compound descended into chaos—alarms wailing, servers melting down, private mercenaries screaming into dead radios.
As they ran through the tunnel, Kodi passed the old man again. The once-mythic Rothschild, now slumped against a marble wall, staring at a shattered phone screen as the world turned against him.
"You can't kill a god," he whispered.
Kodi leaned in.
"Who said I had to?"
Then he walked into the dark.
Free.