The Tycoon's Odyssey

Evan slammed his hand on the desk, frustration etched into his face. "Murder? Seriously?" he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "Where do they get the nerve to say such nonsense?"

Aurora's calm voice cut through his anger. [What can I say? They clearly don't want the truth to come out.]

She paused for a moment before continuing. [USL has already developed treatments for most types of cancer, and the USR is on the brink of creating a vaccine for AIDS. But the Federation's politics had kept them from releasing it. Now that you've taken the lead, it's like you've exposed their hypocrisy.]

Evan scoffed as he leaned back in his chair. "They're fuming, but they still won't release what they've got. What a stubborn lot of fools."

He had expected a backlash—bans, condemnation. What he didn't expect was the global powers sitting on their cures instead of retaliating with their own solutions.

Aurora broke the silence. [So, what's the plan now? This move didn't play out exactly as you wanted.]

Evan's eyes narrowed. "It was never about making a fortune in pharmaceuticals," he said, his voice cold and deliberate. "It's about rewriting the narrative. The cure is real, and eventually, the truth will surface. By then, we'll have built an alternative so strong that they won't have a choice but to follow us."

Aurora's tone remained steady. [Daniel's team is ready. Should we move to the next step?]

"Yes," Evan said firmly. "Start the transition. Let them think they've banished us while we prepare for the real battle."

Evan then asked, his expression sharp, "You already have a hold on the public through the VR network, right?"

[Most of them,] Aurora replied with a sly grin.

"Even if they're not playing VR games, they're still hooked into our system in some way or the other. Start planting the seeds. Get people on the streets. Let them demand answers. Make them fight for the cure."

Aurora acknowledged. [Understood. This will stir things up.]

Evan spun his chair, a faint smirk playing on his face. "It's about time we gave them a show worth watching."

_____

The streets came alive with demands, a rhythmic chant that rose like a tidal wave. In every corner of the city, crowds of people held banners aloft, their bold and unrelenting messages. "We want the cure! We want to live! The cure is real, the leaders are lying!"

It started small—just a few individuals outside government offices, their voices drowned in the urban noise. But by mid-morning, the streets were packed. The protesters marched in orderly lines, their restraint surprising. They didn't break windows or clash with the authorities. They simply stood their ground, chanting in unison, their cries echoing louder than any riot could.

Inside the Parliament House of USL, Vice President Aaron Holt paced in his office, his usual calm now replaced with visible frustration. His chief advisor, Eleanor Wills, stood nearby, holding a tablet streaming live feeds of the protests.

"What in the world is this chaos about?" Holt snapped, glaring at the screen.

"Sir, these protests have erupted across all major cities," Eleanor began, her tone cautious. "People are demanding access to the cure released by NextGen Pharmaceuticals. They're convinced that our claims against the vaccine are false."

"Ridiculous!" Holt exclaimed. "The World Healthcare Federation already condemned it. Why won't they just listen?"

Eleanor adjusted her glasses. "It seems… convincing them won't be easy. They believe we're suppressing the truth."

Holt slammed his fist on the desk. "Deploy the police. No—deploy the army if necessary. Break up these crowds!"

Eleanor hesitated. "We've already sent reinforcements, but the more officers we deploy, the more people show up. They're… coordinated, sir. Almost as if someone's directing them."

Holt's eyes narrowed. "Coordinated? Who could organize something on this scale without us knowing?"

Eleanor shrugged, her unease evident. "That's the real mystery, sir."

_____

In Daxia, Health Minister Zhu Li was caught in a similar storm. His convoy was stuck in gridlock, surrounded by thousands of protesters flooding the streets, chanting the same demands. Zhu peered out of his car window, his expression dark.

"What's going on out there?" he barked at his aide.

"Sir," the aide began nervously, "it's the same as in other countries. They're demanding access to the cure."

Zhu frowned. "We already discredited that nonsense. Why are they still out here?"

"They don't believe the Federation's statements. They're convinced we're suppressing the truth."

"Idiots!" Zhu muttered. "And why has the army not cleared the streets?"

"They are, sir, but… these protesters aren't violent. They just stand there, chanting. We can't use force without risking a major backlash. The optics would be terrible."

Zhu rubbed his temples, feeling a headache forming and his patience thinning. "Then figure out another way. I won't let these fools paralyze the city."

_____

Meanwhile, in the USR, President Viktor Rodin stood in the grand hall of the Kremlin, his piercing gaze fixed on the massive screen displaying the protests sweeping across the nation. Beside him, Minister of Defense, Ivan Markov, maintained a stoic demeanor.

"This is absurd," Viktor growled, his voice cold as the winter outside. "How are they not afraid of the consequences?"

Ivan folded his arms, his tone measured. "There are too many of them, sir. If we crack down hard, it could escalate into widespread unrest. They're not rioting—they're just standing there, chanting. It's… strategic."

"Strategic?" Viktor spat, his frustration bubbling. "This isn't a strategy; it's madness. Who is behind this?"

Ivan hesitated before answering. "We're still investigating. But whoever they are, they've managed to spark coordinated protests in nearly every major city on the continent. This isn't random."

Viktor's expression hardened. "I don't care who's behind it. Shut it down. I don't care if we have to flood the streets with soldiers—end this, now."

_____

Across the world, the scene repeated itself. From bustling markets to the orderly avenues of Europa, the chants of the protestors echoed like a single, unified voice.

In the crowded streets of Indra's capital, Prime Minister Surya Patel stood behind the thick glass of his office window, watching the sea of protesters below.
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"This is unacceptable," he muttered, turning to his security chief. "What are we doing about this?"

"Sir, we've deployed additional forces, but… the crowds keep growing," the chief replied, his tone tense. "They're not rioting; they're just blocking everything. Roads, government buildings, and even private businesses. Everything's at a standstill."

Surya clenched his fists, his frustration palpable. "This isn't just a protest. Someone's pulling the strings. Find out who it is and shut them down."

"Yes, sir," the security chief replied, though a flicker of doubt shadowed his voice.

As the chief went away, Surya allowed a smile to cross his lips.

"Sir, the Plan is working well."