Things have changed

The walls were closing in, and they knew it. For decades, they had feasted on the lifeblood of a nation too distracted, too divided, too trusting to see the truth. They had built their empire on deception, their pockets lined with the sweat of the very people they claimed to serve. The game had always been rigged in their favor.

But something had changed.

The people—their people—had awakened. No longer content to swallow the neatly packaged lies broadcast by the lapdogs in the legacy media, they questioned everything. They saw through the desperate distractions, the empty promises, the manufactured outrage designed to pit neighbor against neighbor. The old playbook, once so effective, was failing. The spell was broken.

So the corrupt did what the corrupt always do: they doubled down. Narratives were spun with feverish desperation, new boogeymen invented overnight to shift the blame, to stir up just enough fear to send the people crawling back into compliance. But the fear was gone. The blinders had fallen. And with each frantic lie, each clumsy attempt to control the narrative, they only dug themselves deeper.

The reckoning was coming. They could feel it in the streets, in the way people spoke in hushed but determined tones, in the defiant glint in their eyes. No amount of censorship or distraction could turn the tide now.

One by one, the corrupt would fall. It was no longer a question of if—only when.