The city had quieted, but Dre knew it was only the eye of the storm. Obayemi had been taken down, yes — but power never disappeared, it simply moved. And sometimes, it returned uglier, more desperate. What came next was not just rebuilding a broken nation. It was protecting it from vultures who had waited patiently in the wings, hoping for just such a collapse.
The new government had announced a transition committee. Dre's name was being thrown around — not as a president, but as a national advisor. That alone was dangerous. It put a mark on him again, this time from those who feared he'd become too powerful.
We are not politicians Dre told the team. We are builders. And if we accept the wrong table, we become what we fought against.
Then what Kemi asked. Do we walk away?
No. We build a system that doesn't need kings. That is harder. But lasting.
He stood before the people the next day. No grand podium. Just the steps of the same Parliament they had once stormed.
Do not give me your power he said. Use it yourselves. Build your communities. Elect your voices. Watch your leaders. Challenge your laws. This movement is not mine. It's yours. So do not wait for Dre. Be Dre
That day became known as The Flame Speech. And it burned itself into history.
While the cities celebrated, Dre returned to the streets. Quietly. Alone. He visited families who lost sons. Mothers who marched and never returned. Children who stood beside fires with hollow eyes. He promised them more than statues or flags. He promised them safety. Food. Schools. Dignity.
In Ajegunle, he helped raise the first people-run hospital. In Surulere, he sat with mechanics and helped them form a co-op. In Bariga, he funded a woman-led watch group that protected girls walking to school.
But peace never sleeps long.
Three weeks after the Flame Speech, Malik rushed into their shared base in the abandoned hotel wing.
They found Shade.
Dre sat up instantly. Where
North. A private airfield. He's running with foreign cash. And weapons. He's building his own army
Kemi entered behind him. I knew he wouldn't go quietly
He betrayed us Dre said. But he also knows every weak spot we have
So we strike first Malik said. End it
The team assembled quickly. This wasn't a protest. This wasn't civil action. This was a hunt. And Dre made no apology for it.
They reached the airfield just before midnight. Quiet wind. Empty hangars. But tracks showed recent movement. Two SUVs were parked near a jet, engines still warm.
Dre moved like smoke through the shadows. Kemi flanked left. Malik covered the rear. They entered the hangar, weapons drawn.
Shade stood inside, not hiding. Waiting.
So you did come he said, smirking. I always said you'd chase justice like a dog until it bit you back
You lied Dre said. You bled people. Sold hope for control. This ends now
Shade raised his hand. Armed men stepped out of the dark. But they didn't shoot. Not yet.
You think you saved Nigeria? You just made her weak. And now others will come. Nations that don't care about your fire, only your oil and your cheap lives
Maybe Dre said. But we will face them standing. Not kneeling under your heel
Gunfire erupted.
Malik dropped two guards before diving for cover. Kemi rolled a flashbang across the floor. Dre charged through the smoke straight at Shade.
They collided. Fists. Blood. Memory. Rage. Shade fought with the fury of a man who thought he deserved the crown. Dre fought like he never wanted it.
You were my brother Dre growled, slamming him into a crate. You taught me to fight
And I taught you to win Shade hissed. But you chose their love over power
I chose their life Dre said. And you chose your grave
He struck him once more. Shade fell. Bleeding. Breathing. But defeated.
The others secured the jet. Files. Weapons. Evidence of international deals. It was more than betrayal. It was treason.
They left the airfield with Shade in chains. The government wanted to take custody, but Dre insisted on a people's trial. And the people agreed.
Shade was tried in the same square where Dre had once stood with a megaphone. This time, it was the people asking questions. Witnesses came. Mothers. Soldiers. Former allies. The truth unfolded. And when the verdict came, it wasn't death. It was exile.
Let the world see what we do with traitors Dre said. Let them watch him walk. Alone. Forever outside the house he tried to burn
After Shade was gone, the streets began to breathe again. Schools reopened. Power returned to neighborhoods that had gone dark for years. Banks lowered their gates. Markets buzzed.
But Dre remained restless.
He stood one evening atop the same Parliament steps, watching the people dance below. Kemi approached him, holding a small notebook.
What is this he asked.
She smiled. The first draft of the new constitution. Written by the people. Reviewed by every street unit. Every school. Every market. It's not perfect. But it's ours
He opened it. Read the first line.
We, the voices that once whispered, now speak without fear
Dre closed it and nodded.
Then let's teach the next generation how to shout
In the distance, the call to prayer echoed. Followed by laughter. A guitar strummed somewhere. A child sang. The kind of peace that wasn't silent — it was alive.
And Dre finally sat. Not to rest. But to begin again.
Because revolution was never the end.
It was only the beginning.