The digital assassination was complete. The financial one had been a spectacular success. But the war for the narrative was just beginning.
Mark’s final, desperate scream from the Nasdaq podium was not a random outburst; it was the firing of the first volley in his counter-offensive. He wasn’t just a cornered animal lashing out. He was executing a pre-planned contingency: The Scapegoat Protocol. I knew because I had seen fragments of its design in the legal memos I’d decrypted. *In case of catastrophic event, pivot narrative to malicious actor, leverage E.V.’s pre-established history of instability.*
Within the hour, it was everywhere.
My temporary command center’s monitors, which moments ago had shown a satisfying cascade of red stock tickers, now displayed my own face. It was an old c
