The Almighty Dominance

Bella sat in the command room like a queen on a high throne.

Around her, twenty secretaries waited-each one a machine with a name and a job. Their eyes tracked every screen; their fingers hovered over keyboards.

They waited for Bella's next order.

"The Los Angeles internet is down," Bella said.

"Alfred ordered a blackout-no feeds, no leaks. He wants this city blind while he does what he's doing."

Outside the blackout, the military, police, and the truly connected elite still got updates through satellite links.

They weren't going blind. Only the masses were.

"I want every line severed. Cut the city off from the world-land, cellular, and satellite. Six hours. Absolute blackout."

She looked at two secretaries. "You two, make that happen?"

"Roger. We'll link to the hackers and fire up the jammers-sweep starts now," one replied immediate.

"Good." Bella nodded and the two moved to the console, fingers already dialing, voices already routing contacts.

"Last week we set the special comms for our people and the rebel leaders," Bella added.

"Keep that channel secure. We will move them to the target on my mark."

"We're linking with the rebels, Vermont's elite soldiers, the homeless leaders, LA gangsters, and VIPs," another five secretaries said as they slid into their stations and took over the logistics feed.

They were now responsible for every connection.

Bella began issuing orders-sharp and exact-directing thousands like a conductor bringing an orchestra to a single, brutal note.

Her commands were small, clean bullets: one instruction, then the next, no wasted breath.

The field answered in rhythm.

Up on a famous Los Angeles rooftop, a different kind of storm was unfolding.

LA's rich and bored gathered to watch the city burn. They stood with champagne, smoke and light painting their faces.

"This is the best party ever," one young adult shouted, voice thin with inherited arrogance, raising a glass.

"After this purge, Charles Kingston promised me fifty young women," another slurred, grinning like a wolf. "Imagine what we can do with that many."

"He promised me one hundred twenty strong people to play the life-and-death game," someone else said, eyes glittering with excitement.

game live. We could bet money while they bet their

best," a

laugh cut the

man said, voice flat with contempt. "Came from poor Vancouver

power and he'll become your lapdog," another said, eyes cold. “I've heard he'd sell

the first replied, a slow smile. "No conscience, no restraint. We

shoved, screamed,

and money kept the lights bright while the city below drowned in

dead!" someone at the rooftop suddenly shouted, panic cracking

frowned. "But that old greedy Kingston promised the feeds for us would stay

wifi are cut

didn't reach his eyes. "Keep the party-after tonight, Los Angeles

weapons pushed through the revolving doors and

and servants rushed forward, faces tight with a

lean maid cut through the crowd without

lead you to the rooftop,"

hotel security men, room boys, and kitchen hands fell

them down. They started killing our people-now it's

weapons. "Fear not. After tonight, Los

card to the penthouse; the lift hummed upward. Her

she whispered through

years. They get away with it because the Governor shields them. They're bolder, meaner-time to

never lost." The

men who didn't believe in God nodded-because tonight there

voice low and raw, "in this hour of

If we prevail, let peace find us, our families, and everyone." "Amen," the crowd answered, a ragged chorus

elevator dinged and the doors slid open

staffs burst

roar,

for souls

beasts, driven only by

celebrating, drunk on

screams, at the moans, at the distant crack of gunfire—sure that money wrapped them in armor, sure

shots ripped through the

replaced by shrieking panic that echoed the chaos on the streets below. Rich or pool every face looked the same when fear and death came

and flesh alike. Men fell mid-toast, beer spilling

the wounds, smearing their jewelry

weren't invisible either. The poor had broken through, and now the rich

did its work-tearing flesh, snapping bones,